The Trickster and the Telepath
by masterofthefall
Summary: One god fallen from grace. One impossible SHIELD agent who's locked herself - and her heart - away. When their paths collide, it's up to her to break his shell... and it's up to him to escape. But what will happen when both of them start feeling more than they should? What will SHIELD do to keep them apart? Thor/Avengers/TTDW compliant. Three books in one story.
1. Out From Under

**BOOK ONE**

_always alone_

* * *

**ONE**

* * *

_Knocked off my feet_

_The earth moved beneath_

_The edge of a dream and a nightmare_

_Open the door_

_Fell through the floor_

_Slipped through the cracks into nowhere_

_So tell me where were you_

_When everything fell down like thunder_

_I begged you to pull me through_

_I couldn't get out from under_

_I took the fall_

_I took it all_

_Last night was just an illusion_

_\- "Out From Under," Red_

* * *

In a barren desert, a god had fallen from the sky.

He lay crumpled on the sand, his body aching, bruised, and burned.

He had fallen so far and so fast that it was a wonder he was still alive.

He lay on the sand for an eternity. Or maybe it was only an hour. His mind was confused and he could not think straight.

Either way, when the black cars came, he was disappointed.

He had wished they would leave him to die.

After all, that was the reason he had fallen.

* * *

Agent Phil Coulson of S.H.I.E.L.D. got out of the government vehicle, slamming the door, and walked towards the body on the sand of Death Valley. Whoever it was had fallen from the sky about three days ago, about the time when Thor had gone back to Asgard. It appeared that this person had _also_ come from Asgard, despite by a more… unconventional way.

He sighed. More paperwork.

The body was being lifted onto a stretcher, and an agent ran up to him.

"Sir, the person is still alive, but has sustained massive burns and extensive bruising. He hasn't spoken yet, but we believe that it might be Thor's brother, sir, the one who, uh, blew up that town in New Mexico."

Coulson looked at the agent.

"Maximum security," he said.

The agent saluted and went back to his Jeep.

Coulson opened his phone and dialed Nick Fury.

"Sir, we've recovered the stray comet."

Code words were essential, as even _his_ phone could be hacked or bugged. Fury had enemies in high places.

"We think it might have been the one that passed very near to that town in New Mexico. The one that… caused all that damage."

Fury sighed. "Affirmative. Is it under maximum guard, Agent?"

"Yes, sir."

"I've been told things about him. And about what he can do, what he is _capable_ of doing. Coulson, do you understand what _we_ have to do?"

Coulson rolled his eyes. Fury was always so melodramatic. "Frankly, I was thinking of trying to get Thor down here to drag his ass back to Asgard."

"Agent, this line is not secure."

"Yes, sir."

"Coulson, we're going to have to bring in Agent Cooper."

Coulson took off his sunglasses, stunned.

"Sir, I'm not sure that would be wise… hasn't she refused? Over and over?"

"If it comes down to a government order, Coulson, she won't be able to. I'm sending her in tomorrow, early, so make sure you're ready."

The line went dead.

Coulson sighed, rubbing his temples. Cooper made him uneasy. As one of the most senior agents at S.H.I.E.L.D., he had been one of the ones to approve her for training… training that she had completed faster than any other agent. Well, except for Romanoff, but she had been a spy and assassin _before_ her training.

He knew what Cooper could do.

Never mind that she hadn't done… any of it for almost five years now.

She still put him on edge.

He'd rather have a magic-serum super-soldier any day.


	2. Stranger Than Fiction

**TWO**

* * *

_It's stranger than fiction_

_How you've decayed_

_It must be so lonely_

_Lost within your ways_

_You're born alone, you die alone_

_The rest is yours to fill the gap_

_The world goes on without you here_

_Adjust or just collapse_

_Is this what you wanted to be_

_Alone standing by yourself_

_Is this all you wanted to be_

_Or was that a cry for help_

_By yourself, by yourself, by yourself_

_\- "Stranger Than Fiction," Five Finger Death Punch_

* * *

Agent Alana Cooper walked down the gleaming halls of the highly classified military hospital. She could still remember the one that _she_ had stayed in, back when she was sixteen.

Except this time, she wasn't a patient.

Whispers and murmurs from fellow agents followed her as she walked down towards the patient's room.

She was used to them.

That didn't mean she liked it. Her situation was classified, but rumors always leaked out. Even here, in a new city, with different agents, her story had been whispered.

They couldn't guess how bad it really was.

Her phone vibrated, and she picked it up. It was Natasha, one of the few friends she had made back in New York.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"I'm not really sure… Coulson refused to tell me over the phone, just what hospital room I should report to," Alana replied.

"Well, make sure you give him mysterious looks. Tell me how many times he looks uncomfortable."

Alana smiled. "Will do."

She hung up, and paused for a second. She had arrived at the hospital room.

She peered into the window and saw Coulson inside, talking with a doctor. He noticed her, and, looking slightly uncomfortable, walked outside, closing the door behind him.

"Agent Cooper."

"Sir."

"Fury told me he was sending you in early. He didn't say that it would be _this_ early."

"He told me to take the first flight out, sir, and that happened to be the 1:09 AM flight."

Coulson shifted from one foot to the other. "Look, Cooper, I have to be honest with you. I'm still not sure that you are the right person for the job. Despite your training records, you're still relatively inexperienced, and this is a really, really, _really_ big job."

Alana looked at him calmly. "Sir, with all due respect, I don't think that Fury has any other choice. If this person is who you think he is, then I'm our best option. Either that or placing a squadron around him until Thor comes back or he breaks loose."

Coulson sighed. He knew she was right. "This way."

He led her down the hall a bit, into a room that had a two-way mirror in it. The other side was in the hospital room that Coulson had vacated. Lying on the white bed was a man who looked to be in his early twenties, just like Alana. He had long, dark hair, and pale skin. He was awake, and the stillness with which he lay made him seem like a trapped animal.

Either a trapped animal, or the predator waiting to strike.

The only thing that was moving was his cold green eyes that were flashing all over the place.

Alana asked, "How long is he expected to stay in the hospital?"

"Only for a day more, they think. His body is healing itself very quickly, but not, apparently, healing in a normal way. It's almost as if he's being influenced by an outside energy source, one that heals."

"So, magic." Alana stated.

Coulson looked at her. "Sure. For want of a better word, it's magic."

"Well. The magician and the girl with the changing eyes. Sounds like a bad movie."

She laughed a bit, and Coulson felt even more uncomfortable.


	3. Falling Inside The Black

**THREE**

* * *

_Falling in the black_

_Slipping through the cracks_

_Falling to the depths can I ever go back_

_Dreaming of the way it used to be_

_Can you hear me?_

_Falling in the black_

_Slipping through the cracks_

_Falling to the depths can I ever go back_

_Falling inside the black_

_Falling inside, falling inside the black_

_\- "Falling Inside The Black," Skillet_

* * *

Loki was watching, and waiting, and listening. He took in every word spoken, analyzing and dissecting them, but spoke none. He watched the movements of the people outside, searching for a weak-willed person that he could use.

He waited for an opportunity to escape.

The head agent, Coulson, frequently came in to talk to the doctors.

And just now, he had heard whispers in the hallway, and seen a young woman's face looking through the window of his door. Coulson had noticed and immediately left. He could hear them talking somewhere close by, but failed to comprehend what they were saying.

His train of thought was interrupted as the door opened and the young woman who had looked through the door and Coulson walked in.

His first impression of the woman was her eyes. They were piercing gray that seemed to analyze and assess every portion of his soul. Her hair was brown and long, braided back neatly, reaching to the small of her back. She wore a S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform in dark blue, but carried no weapon.

He scanned her, quickly, seeing if her mind was weak, and was astounded when he hit an impenetrable wall, as it were, around her entire mind. It was the strongest mind that he had felt so far.

He regarded her in a different light and wondered why her mind was so sealed off.

Coulson said to Loki, "This is Agent Cooper."

When Loki did not respond, he said, "I'll leave you two alone," and walked out of the room.

The young woman pulled out her phone and hit a few buttons.

"Yes, it's me. We just finished talking. Three minutes, and I counted at _least_ five times."

The person on the other end laughed and said something indistinct.

"Yeah, definitely. I'll see how many more I can get before I have to leave. Bye, Tasha."

She put her phone away, still grinning.

"Sorry about that," she said. "A couple of my friends have a bet going on how many times I can make Coulson uncomfortable within a certain period of time."

She smirked and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I think Clint underestimates me."

Loki just looked at her.

"Oh, I'm Alana, by the way. Please don't call me Agent Cooper. It's so… weird."

She made a face.

"I don't know if Coulson's told you this, but I'm the one you're going to be staying with. Well, I say 'staying with', Coulson says 'guarded by'."

Loki said nothing. It was not surprising that government agents would be guarding him. He had expected that.

What he hadn't expected was one young woman.

She couldn't be much more than twenty-one.

Either Coulson underestimated him, or there was something else going on.

"What's your name?" she asked.

There was a pause, and then he said reluctantly, "I am Loki."

"Like the Norse god?"

Loki rolled his eyes. "Yes. Exactly like the Norse god."

She smiled.

There was a pause, and then she asked, "Is it really true that you have an eight-legged horse for a kid?"

Loki sat up straight in his bed, a look of horror on his face.

"Sleipnir? You mortals think he is my _child_? That is revolting!"

Alana laughed. "Sorry. And… would that be a no on the giant wolf as well?"

Loki sank back into the pillows and covered his face with his hands. "Thor," he mumbled, "it must have been Thor. It _had_ to have been Thor…"

"Why would Thor do that?" Alana asked curiously. At Loki's inquisitive look, she said dismissively, "Yeah, I know who Thor is, big angry thunder guy, but why? Seems kinda immature."

Loki smirked a bit at her description of Thor.

"He's – " Loki was about to say _my brother_, then remembered his true parentage and his brow darkened. "- a person I know."

Alana saw his change of mood and said nothing.

They sat in silence for a while, then Alana said, "I have to go now, but Coulson will probably want me to tell you this, in case you get any… ideas."

Loki narrowed his eyes.

Alana stood up. "You may be the god of mischief, but be assured that I am _completely_ capable of taking you down at any given moment. You might think that because I'm a woman, or young, that I can be taken advantage of. Then, you wouldn't be only wrong, you'd be dead, too. Many, many people have underestimated me. I urge you to _not _make the same mistake."

She smiled brightly and walked out of the room.


	4. Fight Inside

**FOUR**

* * *

_What I fear and what I've tried,_

_Words I say and what I hide._

_All the pain, I want it to end_

_But I want it again._

_And it finds me_

_The fight inside is coursing through my veins._

_And it's raging_

_The fight inside is breaking me again._

_I'm still the same, pursuing pain._

_Is it worth all that I've gained?_

_We both know how this will end,_

_But I'd do it again._

_\- "Fight Inside," Red_

* * *

Alana had not been lying or exaggerating in what she had said to Loki. In fact, she might have been understating the truth.

The truth was that Alana was impossible. She was telepathic and telekinetic, able to move objects and read people's minds. Her gray eyes changed color depending on whose mind she was reading.

Such a gift came with a high price.

Her family had been killed and she kidnapped by an evil crime lord who forced her to become his assassin; it was only through the help of a very famous detective that she escaped and the crime lord was caught.

She had been told her ten-year old brother, Oliver was held hostage. It was for this reason that she had done the criminal's bidding; only to find out he was dead.

She had been shot while single-handedly fighting said crime lord and his private army.

Healing in the hospital, she chose to never use her powers again and to not endanger anyone else by becoming too close to them.

The government had referred her to S.H.I.E.L.D. after she was healed. They were aware of her… uniqueness. She had trained and succeeded, all without aid of her powers.

She had been only sixteen when this happened.

She now suffered from PTSD, which gave her terrible nightmares. She kept it well under wraps, but it weighed on her like a blanket of lead.

She had been asked to use her powers by S.H.I.E.L.D., and refused. But now, with Loki, she was _ordered_ to use her powers to take him down if necessary.

She really hoped that it wouldn't be.

But at the same time, she longed for it.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to all the very kind people who have followed/favorited and to my guest reviewer from the last chapter! If you'd like to know Alana's full backstory, read my fanfic The Girl with the Changing Eyes. You might catch a couple of Easter eggs in here if you do. ;)**


	5. Gollum's Song

**FIVE**

* * *

_These tears we cry_

_Are falling rain_

_For all the lies_

_You told us_

_The hurt, the blame!_

_And we will weep_

_To be so alone_

_We are lost!_

_We can never go home_

_So in the end_

_I will be - what I will be_

_No loyal friend_

_Was ever there for me_

_\- "Gollum's Song," Emiliana Torrini_

* * *

Loki had been healed completely, thanks to his magic. Humans were so slow at healing. He was wearing an olive green shirt and black pants. The shirt had originally been red. Magic was very useful sometimes.

He hated red.

His hands bound in handcuffs, (quite primitive, but it apparently made the humans feel safer,) and escorted by eight S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, he approached the private plane that was being provided to get him to New York.

Loki _really_ didn't like planes, mostly because they reminded him of Thor. Noisy, and flying.

As he drew closer, he saw Alana poke her head out of the plane and then do a double-take, walking out of the plane and yelling at the head agent escorting him. She then returned inside the plane.

The head agent motioned disgruntledly to the agent closest to Loki, who grudgingly removed his handcuffs. Loki rubbed his wrists and smirked at the agents. Obviously, Alana was overconfident in her ability to control him.

That would soon change.

* * *

Alana spoke briefly to the pilot of the jet and then returned to her seat, checking the situation out the window of the jet. Loki had been released from the handcuffs, thank goodness. _What _Coulson was thinking, she had no idea. Loki may have been mischievous, but they only had Thor's word that the person who destroyed the town was his brother Loki.

And why had Loki not called Thor his brother? That would have certainly made more sense… but she had seen his reaction when she had talked about Thor, and it had been angry. And… vulnerable?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Loki's arrival into the jet. He looked around suspiciously, rubbing his wrists, then sat in a window seat farthest from the front and from Alana.

"Wrists doing okay?" Alana asked tentatively. "I asked Coulson not to do that, but he doesn't really listen to me. Well, he is my superior, but…"

She trailed off, as Loki showed no sign of interest.

They sat in silence until the pilot announced to fasten their seat belts. Alana took out a worn paperback while Loki stared out the window.

Since Loki had said nothing, Alana dove into her book. It was one of her favorites. She had read it many times, but always found new things every time she reread it.

Loki looked out the window.

* * *

After about two and a half hours, Loki grew bored with watching out the window.

Instead, he decided to plan methods of escape.

Obviously, he could not escape at the moment; he was in a plane. But perhaps when they reached the airport he could become invisible and lose Alana in the crowd.

He stared at her, wondering again why S.H.I.E.L.D. had entrusted him to one young woman.

She was absorbed in her book, her mouth a little open, a strand of hair falling over her eyes. Her head rested on her hand.

He supposed she was pretty, in the Midgardian style, slender but strong, with a face that needed no makeup.

But then again, she _was_ Midgardian, and therefore (obviously) beneath him.

So he regarded her not with desire or with longing, but with a look more suitable to a fly or a snake… something that had crawled in.

Alana's lips quirked at something amusing in her book.

Then she looked up and saw Loki staring at her, giving him a quizzical glance and tucking the strand of hair behind her ear a little self-consciously.

Loki turned back to the window again.


	6. Here We Are

**SIX**

* * *

_So here we are, fighting and trying to hide the scars._

_I'll be home tonight, take a breath and softly say goodbye._

_The lonely road, the one that I should try to walk alone._

_I'll be home tonight, take a breath and softly say goodbye._

_\- "Here We Are," Breaking Benjamin_

* * *

After they landed at the airport, Loki scrapped his plans of escape; the airport was far too empty for him to turn invisible.

He resigned himself to one of his other plans of escape, the one he had been most reluctant to follow through with. It consisted of him lulling Alana into a false sense of security, then escaping when she least expected it.

He hated that plan. He wanted to leave as soon as possible.

* * *

Alana drove the black car that was waiting for them at the airport.

"It's mine," she told Loki cheerfully. "S.H.I.E.L.D. always wants to get chauffeurs, but I'd rather drive myself. At least they bought the car!"

She laughed.

Loki looked out the window and said nothing.

Alana sighed a little. She guessed that Loki didn't want to talk, but it still disappointed her a bit. Living with a person who pretty much refused to talk to her would not be so great.

But then again, he _had_ just fallen from the sky and almost died.

Alana decided to give him some time and space to figure out what he wanted to do.

She drove the rest of the way in silence, stopping only to type in a security code and give her fingerprint to the pad at the gate.

The metal gates opened with a _clunk_ and she drove through, the gates closing behind her.

"There's a lot of security on the outside. Sometimes I think that S.H.I.E.L.D. wants to keep me in one place for as long as possible. Oh, and tomorrow I'll program your fingerprint in so that you can get inside, too."

Loki glanced at her, puzzled. Did that mean she was going to let him out?

The car parked outside of a large, modern house, all glass and sleek black. Only two or three lights were on inside, not fully illuminating the house in the dark of the night.

Alana stepped out of the car and breathed in deeply. It was always nice to be back home and smell the fresh air and the trees. Loki stepped out of the car too, taking in his surroundings.

Alana walked up into the house and entered her fingerprint and the passcode again. The doors unlocked and she stepped inside, Loki following her.

She flicked on a light switch and Loki saw a spacious room with comfortable leather chairs and sofas. A bowl of fruit sat on a low coffee table.

She walked up the stairs and opened the door furthest down the hallway with Loki following silently.

"This is your room," she said.

Loki looked at the pale gray walls, the black comforter, and the black desk. The room was large, though not the size of his on Asgard. Glass doors led out to a small balcony overlooking a swimming pool. It was neat and tidy.

"It will be adequate," he said.

Alana smiled tentatively. "I expect you're pretty tired. I'll show you around in the morning, if you like."

Loki nodded curtly.

Alana added, "If you need anything, I'm just down the hall."

Loki looked coldly at her. "What would I need from you?'

Alana shrugged, then said, "Goodnight," and left, closing the door on her way out.

Loki wandered around the room, examining the adjoining bathroom and flipping through some books he found on the bookshelves.

He paused as he found a leather-bound sketchbook lying on the bottom shelf. It was blank, but as he flipped through it, he found a scrap of paper tucked in between two pages. On it, the word _hide _was written over and over again.

Loki paid it no mind, closing the book and placing it back on the shelf.

Pulling off his shirt, he fell into the bed, worn out from his day of travel.

He slept uneasily, haunted with dreams of falling.


	7. World So Cold

**SEVEN**

* * *

_I never thought_

_I'd feel this_

_Guilty and I'm_

_Broken down inside_

_Living with myself_

_Nothing but lies_

_I always thought_

_I'd make it_

_But never knew I'd_

_Let it get so bad_

_Living with myself_

_Is all I have_

_\- "World So Cold," Three Days Grace_

* * *

The next morning, Loki was awakened by sunlight streaming through the window. A small clock next to his bed read 10:30. He didn't usually sleep in late, but perhaps it was what Midgardians called "jetlag".

The clothes that had been provided by S.H.I.E.L.D. were simple and few. Loki dressed in a gray shirt and black jeans before washing his face in the bathroom sink.

He opened his door slowly, peering out. He was surprised that his door had not been locked. He could see lights on downstairs and smelled something warm and invigorating.

He stepped out into the hallway and cautiously walked downstairs.

Alana was curled in a leather chair with her back to him, wearing sweatpants and a loose blue shirt. Over her shoulder, he could see that she had a sketchpad in front of her and was drawing. Her hair was put in a messy bun, secured by… sticks?

When she stuck her pencil in her bun and took out a blue one, his confusion dissipated slightly.

He silently walked up behind her chair, gazing at her drawing. She was drawing a pair of cold blue eyes that were incredibly lifelike and seemed to look with detachment on Loki, as if he were a vaguely interesting fly on the wall.

She made another stroke on the eye, then closed her book and stood up, stretching. She obviously had not noticed him yet. Her back still to him, she walked around a low table and into a white kitchen, where she pulled out a mug and began to fill it with a brown liquid. He realized this must be what had smelled so good.

She turned around and saw him in the living room. "Good morning," she said with a yawn. "Coffee?"

He shrugged. Her eyes widened. "Have you _never_ had coffee before?"

"No," he replied. "There is no such thing on Asgard."

"How do you _survive _the mornings?" she mumbled, mostly to herself as she filled up another mug and gave it to him.

He took a small sip. It was warm and rich, with an unusual flavor that he couldn't describe.

"Good, huh?" Alana said, yawning again.

He nodded, reluctantly.

"Are you hungry?" she asked. "I'm not a great cook, but we've got cereal and fruit and I can make toast or eggs, if you want."

Loki's stomach rumbled. He had forgotten that he had not eaten in over 24 hours, what with all the traveling.

"I'm making toast for myself," Alana said.

"Toast will do fine," Loki said distantly.

Alana popped some bread into the toaster and got out the butter. Loki sat down at the white table, drinking his coffee slowly, looking around.

The toaster dinged and Alana placed the toast in front of him. "Apple?" she asked.

Loki nodded, and she walked into the living room, grabbing a couple from a bowl. She threw one to him, which he caught, surprised.

Alana flopped down on a chair across from him and started eating her toast.

Loki was ravenous, and quickly devoured the apple and his toast. Alana looked at him in shock. "How long has it been since you've eaten?"

"About a day," Loki mumbled.

Her gray eyes widened in sympathy, and she got up and went back into the kitchen.

"Have another apple," she called.

Loki did so, and by the time he was finished Alana had cooked eggs and (slightly burnt) bacon.

He ate more slowly this time; unsure why she was feeding him, why she was being so _nice_ to him. Wasn't she supposed to guarding him, not cooking for him?

Alana watched him concernedly, and when he was done with his meal, she asked, "Better?"

He nodded.

"Right then, tour of the house," she declared, standing up and walking down the hall.

Loki was shown the swimming pool, the TV room, the basement and the downstairs bathroom as well as the guest bedroom.

He was beginning to realize just how large the house really was, especially for one person.

He mentioned it and she agreed, with a sad smile on her face.

"I inherited a lot of money, but I didn't really have anything to spend it on. So, I just bought a big house, so that I can pretend that people are in the other parts of it and I just can't hear them."

She stopped talking, looking a little embarrassed to have revealed so much.

Instead, she showed him the upstairs bathrooms, the library, the attic and finally, her room.

It was covered with bookshelves, which in turn were filled with dozens of leather-bound books and sketchbooks. Her bed was neatly made, covered with a blue quilt. It looked comfortable and worn. Sketches covered the walls, tacked up, pictures of trees and birds and eyes.

On a small shelf in the corner lay a bullet.

Loki furrowed his brow. "What is this?" he asked.

Alana laughed a bit. "You're the first one in _ages_ who's noticed that."

Her face sobered as she answered, "That was the bullet I was shot with."

She pulled aside the neck of her shirt to reveal a circular scar just below her collarbone.

Loki narrowed his eyes. Who was this girl? Why was she being so trusting of him? Did she expect the same in return?

Well, that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

"I see," he said coldly, and left her room.

* * *

Loki was not used to an empty house.

On Asgard, the palace was always full of guards and courtiers and people come to ask requests of Odin.

He preferred the emptiness. It was peaceful, and he didn't have to pretend to be that which he was not.

Loki was also not used to following rules.

Alana had told him that he would be required to do his own laundry and take turns cooking, once he became more comfortable in the house. She told him that he wasn't confined to the house and could explore the surrounding woods, but that he had to have a phone with him.

Loki said that he didn't have a phone.

The next day, one mysteriously showed up outside his bedroom door.

She had said nothing at all about him being a criminal.

When he confronted her about this, she looked a bit confused. "Innocent until proven guilty," she said.

He didn't know what to make of it all.


	8. Oh No!

**EIGHT**

* * *

_One track mind, one track heart_

_If I fail, I'll fall apart_

_Maybe it is all a test_

_'Cause I feel like I'm the worst_

_So I always act like I'm the best_

_\- "Oh No!" Marina &amp; The Diamonds_

* * *

Days passed, and slowly Loki began to grow more comfortable in Alana's house. He did not speak much for the first few days, but they gradually settled into a kind of routine.

Loki was actually a surprisingly decent cook. Alana, however, was not. When she made dinner, it was generally limited to some kind of microwaved chicken.

One night she got fed up of cooking. "Right," she said, "we're going to Burger King or to a restaurant or something, 'cause you've been surpassing me and now I'm ashamed of my cooking."

Loki rolled his eyes. "It really isn't that hard to follow a recipe, you know."

Alana said, "Recipes hate me," and walked out to the car.

Loki followed her, sighing.

* * *

At the restaurant, Alana ordered them a pizza.

Loki had no idea what pizza was. Alana's mouth dropped open when he told her that, and said, "Well, it's a good thing I ordered a large."

When the pizza came, Loki just looked at the triangular slice strangely. He picked it up awkwardly with his hands, imitating Alana.

It was delicious. Alana laughed as his eyes widened and as he ate vigorously.

"How did we not know of this on Asgard?" he questioned.

Alana shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, pizza's not exactly a _new_ food."

Loki replied, "Well, I am over a thousand years old. I should have heard of pizza by now."

Silence followed his words. Alana sat staring at him.

"What?" he asked.

"You're… over a thousand," she stated, disbelieving.

"Yes, I am. One thousand and seventy eight, actually."

"And here I thought you were twenty-five," Alana muttered. "That's just… that's just weird."

Feeling a bit offended, Loki responded curtly, "In human years I am considered twenty-one."

Alana choked a little.

Loki looked at her, his temper rising. Why was his age so important? He was a _god_, for goodness's sake.

"How old will you live to be?" Alana asked quietly.

"Five thousand," he replied tersely.

Alana had nothing more to say, and they both seemed to have lost their appetites, so Alana paid the check and silently drove them back to her house.


	9. What Lies Beneath

**NINE**

* * *

_Take a breath_

_Hold it in_

_Start a fight_

_You won't win_

_Had enough_

_Let's begin_

_Nevermind_

_I don't care_

_All in all_

_You're no good_

_You don't cry_

_Like you should_

_Let it go_

_If you could_

_When love dies in the end_

_So I'll find what lies beneath_

_Your sick twisted smile_

_As I lie underneath_

_Your cold jaded eyes_

_Now you turn the tide on me_

_'Cause you're so unkind_

_I will always be here_

_For the rest of my life_

_\- "What Lies Beneath," Breaking Benjamin_

* * *

It was three weeks before Loki lost his temper. It was a trivial matter, but Loki was not used to being denied.

It was also the day that Alana, fed up with him, used her powers.

Loki was seated in a chair, reading a book, when Alana walked in.

"You look terrible," Loki commented frankly.

"Thanks," she said sarcastically. "Nightmares."

"Really? What about?" he asked, two parts mocking to one part curious. He had noticed mumbling and noises coming from her room ever since he had arrived, but had dismissed them so far. Now, though, he was curious.

"Nothing. It's… just that they're getting worse," she answered, looking away from him.

"Tell me," Loki insisted.

"It's not important. Forget it."

"No."

"I said, forget it!"

Loki stood up, throwing his book on the floor. "I am an Asgardian, and you would do well to obey me, mortal!"

Alana laughed.

"You dare mock _me, _you foolish mortal? The power of Asgard flows through me, the power of a god! You will pay for this insolence! I am Loki, of Asgard, and you will obey me!" He was enraged, furious that she would_ laugh_, at _him_!

Alana smiled mockingly, her eyes turning the same green as Loki's, and said, "You're not of Asgard. You're an outcast. Of Asgard? No. You are of Jotunheim."

Her smile died and her eyes reverted back to grey as she realized what she had said. Crap.

"I'm going out," she said quickly. "Catch you later."

But it was too late, for Loki's rage, already boiling, had overflowed.

"DON'T MOVE!"

Despite her best attempts to move, she found herself frozen in place. Damn it. She stared at Loki, refusing to show fear.

"Let me go, Loki. Now. "

"Or what?" he sneered. "_What did you say?_"

"Nothing," Alana said. Loki was making her angry, too, and that was _not_ good for her hidden powers.

"Don't lie to me! How do _you_ know of Jotunheim? How does a _puny_ mortal know of my true parentage? TELL ME!"

His voice was like steel, dripping with hatred, anger, and desperation. Alana could see him shutting down and losing control. They had been doing so well, but she could see that he was just as damaged as ever. She cursed her big mouth.

"I'm leaving, Loki. Goodbye."

"I'd like to see you try," he mocked. "Try, mortal! Try and escape the God of Mischief!"

"Okay," Alana said. Loki was making her so angry she couldn't resist. And there was no other way to get out of the situation.

She used her telekinesis to eliminate the magic freezing her in place.

Loki's eyes filled with anger and disbelief as she walked out the front door.

* * *

After Alana had left, Loki started to pace the room angrily, throwing books across the room with his magic.

How had she done it? How had she gotten free of his magic? How could she have possibly done what she just did?

"HOW?" he roared, but only silence answered him.

* * *

Alana let out a deep breath. That had been the first time in five years she had used her powers, and she felt guilty about breaking her own promise to herself.

But it had felt so _right_, like she didn't have to worry and hide anymore, like a part of her had been raised from the dead -

She stopped her train of thought there. _I made my decision, and I'm sticking to it. No more powers. No more._

_I can't let anyone else get hurt._


	10. Going Under

**TEN**

* * *

_Now I will tell you what I've done for you_

_Fifty thousand tears I've cried._

_Screaming, deceiving and bleeding for you_

_And you still won't hear me (going under)_

_Don't want your hand this time - I'll save myself._

_Maybe I'll wake up for once (wake up for once)_

_Not tormented daily defeated by you_

_Just when I thought I'd reached the bottom_

_I'm dying again_

_I'm going under (going under)_

_Drowning in you (drowning in you)_

_I'm falling forever (falling forever)_

_I've got to break through_

_I'm going under_

_\- "Going Under," Evanescence_

* * *

Alana had returned about two hours later. Loki was still fuming, hidden up in his room. She sketched for a while, then made a cold dinner for herself and left out a plate for Loki, then, exhausted, trudged up to her room and quickly fell asleep.

When Loki realized she was asleep, he left his room and headed downstairs, grudgingly eating the dinner laid out (he _was_ hungry) and noticed Alana's sketchpad lying on the coffee table.

Still angry with her, he decided to look through it.

What he found astonished him.

Pages and pages of eyes, maniacal brown, warm blue, her own gray eyes, and the cold blue ones he had seen her draw on the first morning he spent in the house.

He flipped to the last page and stared into his own eyes.

They were green and drawn with care and a gentle hand, and looked pained and vulnerable. He saw the inner workings of his heart etched in the sorrow he found there.

Was that how she saw him?

Sighing heavily and _very_ confused, Loki walked up the stairs, heading towards his room, when he heard a whimper coming from Alana's. Dare he enter? The memory of their previous encounter made him wary.

Damn that, he would.

He slowly opened her door and peered inside.

Alana was curled up on her bed; in a fetal position so tight it looked painful. She was making pained noises, and he knew that she must be having a nightmare. As he watched from the doorway, she curled tighter and mumbled. He crept up to her, silent as a shadow.

His anger at her dissipated as he watched her stir fretfully. These must be the nightmares of which she had spoken, and he could see now why she had not wanted to talk about them.

Who was this girl, this mysterious girl, who locked up her heart tighter than the Weapons Vault on Asgard? And what powers did she hide?

Above all, why did he feel as if he was falling again?

Falling from the Bifrost, giving up his life, wanting and wishing and _hoping _for death, only to have death cruelly snatched from him.

Alana made a little noise of protest, then said, "Don't fall… please. Please." And then, soft as a whisper, "For me."

What?

Strange coincidence, that. Coincidences seemed to happen regularly around her.

Loki was growing most distrustful of coincidences.

And no one would have stopped _him_ from falling.

The hardest truth to learn was to learn that you were alone.

An empty hole, filled with darkness. No brother, no father, no friends. Only the shadows, the darkness; his shadow, his father's shadow, the shadows of Thor's greatness.

But as he searched his heart, he found a light. Only a tiny one, only a spark, but a light that made him feel warm, and safe, and even perhaps… loved?

It was her.

But he pushed against the light, he resisted it, he tried to quell it, for he had known nothing but darkness for years, and the light hurt him deep inside, for it brought memories of his childhood. He refused her, for she was mortal.

And yet, she made him question who he was, who he ought to be. He was above her, above all of them. Yet she did not fear him.

She had stared him in the eyes, unimpressed by his show of magic. While he raged, she stood there, calm and cool.

When he threatened her, she had laughed.

But the falling he felt deep inside when he looked at her did not feel like falling. It felt like flying. But he feared flying more than falling, for reasons he did not know.

Whoever this girl was, he would unlock her. Whatever it took.

He moved closer and looked at her sleeping face, worried in her dream.

_"Don't fall… please. Please. For me."_

The words echoed in his head.

He reached out to touch her face, then stopped and turned away.


	11. Perfect

**ELEVEN**

* * *

_I know that I'm not perfect but I keep trying 'cause that's what I said I would do from the start._

_I'm not alive if I'm lonely, so please don't leave. Was it something I said or just my personality?_

_\- "Perfect," Hedley_

* * *

It was a late summer morning when Alana came into the kitchen, laden down with groceries. Loki had never eaten what he called "Midgardian fare" before, and he liked at least one different thing to try every night. Alana had just bought three types of unpronounceable vegetables and four different types of fruit, several shaped so strangely that she eyed it warily. As she heaved the bags on the counter, she thought she heard a distant melody. Dismissing it, she started restocking the fridge.

When she was done, the sound was still there. It was faint, but plaintive and longing. Where was it coming from?

She followed the sound through the house, finally stopping outside Loki's bedroom door. The music was coming from within. His door was ajar, and she cautiously peered in.

Loki was sitting at a piano, (where the hell did he get a piano?) and was playing, his fingers dancing over the keyboard. The music was beautiful, but she couldn't see any sheet music.

Loki's fingers stopped, and the music stopped too.

"You might as well come in, I know you're there," he said.

She stepped inside a bit sheepishly as he turned around to face her.

"That was beautiful," she said. "Who's it by?"

"No one of consequence."

"I didn't know you played."

"I don't. However, this instrument is similar enough to an Asgardian instrument, so I made do," he said, looking a bit defensive.

Alana smiled. "I played a violin once. It was awful. I almost punctured someone's eardrum, apparently."

Loki looked slightly apprehensive.

"How did you come to that conclusion?"

"He told me. And then he grabbed his violin back and told me not to play it again, because he wanted to keep his other one intact."

"How old were you?" Loki asked curiously.

"Sixteen." A faint smile ran across her face. "That was one of the good parts of my sixteenth year."

Her smile faded, and she changed the subject.

"Where'd you get the piano?"

"I found it in the attic."

Alana looked incredulous.

"A _piano_? How'd you get it down here?"

"It wasn't too hard. It came apart easily. Putting it back together was a bit harder, but…"

Alana held up her hands. "Whoa, whoa, wait a second. You _disassembled _and _reassembled _a _piano_?"

Loki raised his eyebrows. "Obviously."

"Are all gods trained in piano disassembling?"

Loki looked offended.

"Fine, fine. Keep playing, okay? I like it. Don't mind me."

She leaned against the door frame and motioned for him to keep playing.

Loki turned around, a faint smile on his face, and continued to play.

What Alana didn't know was that he had written the piece.


	12. I Don't Care

**TWELVE**

* * *

_If you were dead or still alive,_

_I don't care,_

_I don't care_

_And all the things you left behind,_

_I don't care,_

_I don't care_

_If you were dead or still alive_

_I don't care (nothing can care about)_

_I don't care... (I'm taking care of it)_

_And all the things you've left behind_

_I don't care (you won't be there for me.)_

_I don't care... at all._

_\- "I Don't Care," Apocalyptica_

* * *

Loki sat by the edge of the small stream that ran through Alana's property.

The sunlight was warm and the stream bubbled pleasantly. Dappled light shone through the leaves in the woods behind him.

Yet his mind was not on the sunlight, or the stream. It was fixed, annoyingly, unfortunately, on Alana.

He still didn't understand her.

She should hate him, she should keep him locked up, she _should_.

It was only logical for a soldier.

Yet, she had made them take off the handcuffs, that day on the tarmac so long ago. She gave him free reign through her house and on her property, she had even programmed his fingerprint into the security systems.

Why was she _trusting_ him?

He wanted to tell himself that he didn't care, but a niggling sensation told him that he was wrong. He ignored it.

He _couldn't_ care. He just couldn't. He'd been too long without a source of hope, without someone who believed he was good.

_She's just doing her job, nothing more, _one part of him said.

_Well, then she's doing it _badly_, _ another part said treacherously.

But when she laughed, when she smiled, he could almost forget the pain behind her eyes as well.

Who was she? Why was she so young? How had she gotten free of his magic? Why had she responded in an almost too-perfect way to his thoughts while sleep-talking? How did she know he was an outcast? How did she know he was a Jotunn?

These thoughts swarmed and buzzed in his head, and he could not make sense of them.

He lay down by the stream and let the dappled sunlight warm him.

* * *

Alana hummed softly as she pulled at a particularly stubborn weed. She didn't exactly have a green thumb, _per se_, but she did enjoy getting dirty and planting her flowers. Her white T-shirt was streaked with soil, and the knees of her jeans were green. Her bare feet had turned brown and happily embraced the cool dirt.

She wiped her forehead with her hand, getting some dirt there too, but not caring.

As her fingers worked around the roots, she found her thoughts straying to Loki. She was glad that he seemed a bit more comfortable in her house. It was hard to believe that he had been with her for nearly six weeks.

She wasn't sure how much longer he would be with her. Fury had said that they would try to contact Thor on Asgard, and who knew how long _that_ would take.

Her heart throbbed a bit at the thought of sending him away, but she knew it would have to happen eventually. She was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, and she had to obey their orders.

Sighing, and wiping her forehead again, she continued on the weed, letting out a small exclamation of delight as she finally got it out.

Standing up to throw the weed behind her, (and to stretch her legs) she jumped a bit as she saw Loki leaning against a tree, surveying her.

"You know, that's really freaky," she said, pursing her lips.

Loki smirked. "I know."

"Do you like gardening?" she asked.

"I've never done it before. I am a prince, remember."

"You're a prince?" Alana said, shocked.

Loki realized that she hadn't known that and kept his mouth shut, unwilling to put forward any other information.

Alana could see his reluctance and hesitation, and bent down again, saying, "Come here, it's easy. All you have to do is take out any plants that look like _that_," she said, gesturing with feigned hatred at the weed pile.

Loki knelt down next to her. "This one?" he asked, pale fingers grasping a strangled weed.

"Yeah, that's one. Make sure you get all the roots, like _that_," she said, momentarily placing her hands on top of his and helping him to uproot it. His hands were cold and she shivered a bit, goose bumps trickling down her spine.

He gave her a hint of a smile.

She returned it, radiantly.

They dug together in silence as the sun slowly sank behind the trees.

"You've got dirt on your forehead," Loki said, when they were done.

"So do you," Alana retorted, smiling.

Loki frowned. "No, I don't."

Before he could react, Alana had grabbed his wrist, preventing him from twisting away, and rubbed dirt on his forehead.

He spun away, retreating and watching her with wary eyes.

Alana felt her heart sink. She had gone too far. "Sorry," she ventured, feeling rather small.

She blinked, and Loki was gone.

Sighing, she wiped her hands on her pants, then slowly walked back inside the house.


	13. Grey Sky Eyes

**THIRTEEN**

* * *

_Grey sky, always in your eye_  
_ Where is the girl behind the cloud?_  
_ Grey sky, always floating by_  
_ But I only peek when I'm allowed_

_ You welcome me in_  
_ And your veil is so thin_  
_ But the mystery continues to grow_  
_ You say you must realize_  
_ That my grey sky eyes_  
_ Neither rain, nor they glow... now you know_

_ So I'll try to not act so surprised_  
_ I'll feel my way, I'll underplay_  
_ All my curiosity and hide_

_All the questions in my skin_

_ \- "Grey Sky Eyes," Carbon Leaf_

* * *

Alana was grateful when Loki came downstairs for breakfast the next morning. She had thought that he might have been too wary to join her.

She decided to pretend that it had never happened.

He sat at the table, eating silently. She wanted to say something, but wasn't sure what to say.

Surprisingly, he broke the silence first, his clear voice cutting through the tension in the room.

"Why do you draw eyes so frequently?"

Internally, Alana screamed. Any other question, _any_ other, but to this one she couldn't give him the truth.

Well… not the whole truth anyway.

"Eyes have a lot of emotions behind them. And I feel that… when I draw the eyes of people I've hurt, I can feel better. I feel more like… they might forgive me."

"You drew mine."

She winced a bit. "I'm sorry, I didn't think… I shouldn't have."

"No, it's... fine."

She didn't believe it. "Really?"

"Yes."

She smiled slightly, and asked, "Could you forgive me? After seeing them, I mean."

His pale brow furrowed. "Forgive you for what?"

Alana looked down at her plate. "For… calling you an outcast."

Loki looked at her in astonishment. No one had ever asked for his forgiveness for calling him an outcast. They meant it. They knew it hurt.

But Alana, she, she was different. Why?

Why was he willing to forgive _her?_

"It's alright, really."

"No," she said firmly, looking up at him, "it was not. I'm your host, I shouldn't…"

"Well, I believe I gave you more than enough reason," he said, lounging back in his chair.

Alana smiled, and asked, "Can we just both forget about it?"

Loki nodded, smiling slightly. "I think that would be best."

* * *

**A/N: Hey, everyone! Thanks so much for all your support. Don't worry, much longer chapters are on their way. More fluff, too, but also in the future... angst. Lots and lots of angst.**

***chuckles evilly***

**Please review! I absolutely love the feedback.**

**masterofthefall**


	14. Breath of Life

**FOURTEEN**

* * *

_It's a harder way and it's come to claim her_

_And I always say, we should be together_

_And I can see below, 'cause there's something in here_

_And if you are gone, I will not belong here (belong, belong, belong)_

_And I started to hear it again_

_But this time it wasn't the end_

_And the room is so quiet, oh oh oh oh_

_And my heart is a hollow plain_

_For the devil to dance again_

_And the room is too quiet, oh oh oh oh_

_\- "Breath of Life," Florence + The Machine_

* * *

Loki was getting restless. He hadn't been off the grounds in several weeks, and Alana could see that in his short temper.

So, she decided to go to the beach.

Loki looked rather confused when she tossed a pair of swim trunks at him and said, "Go change, we're going to the beach."

He started to question her, but she cut him off. "No time! We can talk in the car, but I want to beat traffic."

Several minutes later, Loki came downstairs in a black T-shirt and the swim trunks.

"I still don't understand why we're going to the beach."

"Because you're as white as paper and because it's a fun, normal, human activity in the summertime, that's why."

"But I am not human," Loki responded, "and therefore do not have to follow your foolish traditions."

Alana rolled her eyes. "Come on. You mean to tell me that people don't go swimming on Asgard?"

Loki scowled.

"Fine, fine… but you _can _swim, right?"

Loki walked out the door. Alana sighed._ Men._

* * *

When they arrived at the beach, Loki looked around, curiously.

"Why are there so many _people_?"

"Because this is a popular beach, that's why. Now, put on some sunscreen."

"What?"

"_Sunscreen._ It keeps your skin protected from the sun," she said as she rubbed it into her arms.

"On Asgard, we have magic for that," Loki scoffed.

"Well, we're not on Asgard. Now, take off your shirt and turn around."

"What?"

"You need sunscreen on your back."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No."

Alana gritted her teeth. "Loki…" she said warningly.

"Fine."

He pulled off his T-shirt and flinched when Alana plopped sunscreen on his back.

It was cold; it was _very, very_ cold. And it felt weird, too, but was that the sunscreen or the feel of her hands on his back? Alana rubbed it in, then handed him the bottle.

"Here, you can do the rest."

She twisted her hair up into a ponytail, and then stepped out of her shoes.

"Finished?" she asked, and then laughed as he turned around with a blob of sunscreen on his nose. "You've got some sunscreen… on your nose."

Loki looked surprised and rubbed his nose.

"There, now you've got it."

She smiled at him and took the sunscreen. "Get my back for me, would you?"

She pulled off her shirt and shorts and turned her back to him, waiting.

Loki hesitated. It was not the first time he had touched a girl, but all the same, this seemed different, somehow… but why?

"Come on, Loki! I promise I won't bite," she laughed.

He put some sunscreen in his hand, and cautiously touched her back with it. He slowly rubbed it into her back, covering every inch as she waited patiently, holding her hair out of the way. His fingers ghosted over her back like butterflies. Alana shivered involuntarily, and felt a strange sense of loss as he finished and handed her the sunscreen.

"Thanks," she said.

Loki gave her a hint of a smile.

Shaking off her feelings, she ran into the water, with Loki close behind.

"COLD!" she yelled as she hugged her arms to her chest. "It's freezing in here!"

"Really?" Loki asked. "It feels fine to me."

"Well, give me a minute," she said, then dived under an oncoming wave.

Loki dived through it too, twisting and turning in the water. He remembered this; from childhood days spent swimming in Asgard's lakes. But this seemed better, somehow more exciting, and more fun.

Plus, Thor wasn't there, nor the Warriors Three to taunt his pale chest and lean frame.

He shot up out of the water, grinning and brushing his salt-soaked hair out of his eyes, the same color as the sea.

Alana was nowhere to be seen.

"Alana?" he asked tentatively.

No response.

Panicking, Loki dived back into the water, searching through the gloom. Had she hit her head on something? Not been able to come up for air? She was nowhere to be found. His head told him to make his escape while he could, but his heart told him something else.

He swam up to the surface, treading water. "ALANA!" he cried out.

Someone put their hands over his eyes. He snarled. If this was the thing that had taken Alana, he would make them pay. He would make them all pay. He grabbed their wrist and whirled around, ready to fight.

Alana looked surprised. "You okay, Loki?"

Loki deflated a bit as he saw who had "attacked" him from behind, then reinflated himself and asked furiously, "Where were you?"

Alana looked at Loki curiously, and said, "Just underwater. I can hold my breath for a really long time."

Loki looked upset. "You…I thought you were…"

Alana said gently, "You were worried?"

Loki averted his eyes, then looked up, smiled smoothly, and said, "Not at all."

Alana smiled and said, "Well, you're not getting rid of me that easily, buster."

"Buster?" Loki furrowed his brow. "I do not understand."

Alana laughed and splashed him. Loki spit out water, and then grabbed her around the waist, lifting her into the air and throwing her into the water. She shrieked and came up spluttering, then splashed him again, saying, "Not fair!" Her hair had come loose, and it cascaded down her back like a waterfall.

It was beautiful.

Alana looked at Loki questioningly, seeing a change in his eyes, and feeling a change in her heart rate.

"Throw me again?" she said, softly, turning over her shoulder to look at him, feeling as if something between them had changed, too.

Loki treaded water behind her, then his hands cautiously curled around her waist.

It was all she could do not to gasp at the feel of his hands and the strange shock that ran through her that emanated from his fingers.

And then, he threw her, and the moment was broken, as she came up laughing and began to swim for shore, Loki close behind.

By the time she reached the sand, she had pushed the feel of his hands on her skin to the back of her mind.

* * *

The two of them spent a very enjoyable day on the beach, swimming and relaxing in the sun. Loki built a sand castle of Asgard while Alana collected shells. Alana read a book she brought while Loki read over her shoulder unnoticed.

The sunscreen bottle was emptied.

As time passed, Alana grew tired and fell asleep on her towel. Loki lay down on the sand next to her and looked at the clouds. He quickly decided that the big one looked like his helmet, while a smaller one looked like that weird ornament on Alana's car keys. And that one… that one looked like a bilgesnipe.

Alana rolled over and put her head on his chest, curling up next to him.

Loki froze. This was unexpected. Not only unexpected, but also strange. Unfamiliar. What should he do?

Alana let out a little mumble in her sleep.

Loki let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Why was his heart leaping? And why was he smiling like an idiot?

He tried to deny it, but the truth slowly emerged as time passed and he lay watching her sleep curled up next to him. He had feelings for Alana.

Romantic feelings.

He hated that he felt this way, but couldn't argue with it. She was unlike any other mortal he had ever known. Not that he had taken the opportunity to get to know any others, but… well. She had something hidden inside, just as he did, and was troubled but tried to hide it. She was sassy, and gentle, and guarded, and beautiful.

He attempted to convince himself that it was only friendship, nothing more, but his thoughts were interrupted as Alana shifted, her hand splaying out on his bare chest. Electricity seemed to course through him and his heartbeat increased once more.

Damn it, he was in love with Alana Cooper.

Alana smiled in her sleep, then said, "I love you, too."

Loki's heart leapt into his throat, and he smiled.

Alana added, "Goodnight, Oliver."

His heart plummeted, his smile disappeared, his body stiffened.

Always. Always abandoned, rejected, cast out. The loner, the shadow. No one who mattered. No one would save him. _She _would not save him. He had fallen from the Bifrost and now his heart fell too. He thought that she had been different, been _special._ Been like him. But no, Alana had someone else, someone else to hold her and kiss her and laugh with her. He was nothing, _always_. Nothing.

Always alone.

Alana suddenly rolled off him and curled up into the fetal position, whimpering.

"Alana?" Loki asked cautiously. Despite the revelation of her indifference, he was concerned. He shouldn't be, she didn't love him, she didn't care. He was alone.

He sighed as he realized his concern showed his unrequited love for her; rejected, he loved her still.

When she didn't respond to her name, he shook her, gently, then harder. "Alana! Wake up!"

When she did not, he decided that they needed to leave, and quickly. He threw her towel over his shoulder, used his magic to put her sweatshirt on her, and gently and carefully picked her up in his arms. She was light, too light, but the way that she was curled made it hard for him to carry her.

She put her arms around his neck, still whimpering, brow furrowed, as if she had responded to his thoughts. A tear dripped out of her clenched eyelids.

She clung to him like a child, burying her head into his sandy chest.

Loki kissed her on the top of her head, gently, cautiously, hating himself all the while.

He had to get her back home.


	15. Dear Agony

**FIFTEEN**

* * *

_I have nothing left to give_

_I have found the perfect end_

_You were made to make it hurt_

_Disappear into the dirt_

_Carry me to heaven's arms_

_Light the way and let me go_

_Take the time to take my breath_

_I will end where I began_

_And I will find the enemy within_

_Cause I can feel it crawl beneath my skin_

_Dear Agony_

_Just let go of me_

_Suffer slowly_

_Is this the way it's gotta be?_

_Dear Agony_

_\- "Dear Agony," Breaking Benjamin_

* * *

Alana woke up slowly, her head hurting from her vicious nightmare.

Except it wasn't a nightmare. It never was, never had been.

It had all been real.

She buried her face in her hands, struggling to contain her tears.

A small cough snapped her back to reality. She opened her eyes and peeked out through her hands.

Loki was sitting next to her bed, a look of concern and relief on his face. He was still in his swim trunks and his black shirt, now covered with sand.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

Alana nodded, not trusting her voice. She looked around her, confused. Weren't they at the beach? How was she in her room, in her bed?

Loki read her look of confusion perfectly and said, "You fell asleep on the beach and… um… had a nightmare. I couldn't wake you up, so I drove us back here. You've been sleeping for about six hours, curled up and… well."

She brushed her hair out of her eyes and looked at Loki a bit strangely.

"You were sitting here for _six hours_?"

"Er… yes?"

"You really didn't have to do that."

"You looked as if you needed the company."

"I'm fine," Alana said as she swung her legs off the bed, standing up and then immediately falling, her legs collapsing under her.

In a flash, Loki was there, catching her in his arms and pulling her back up. She smiled weakly and said, "Thank you."

Loki shrugged, but Alana said again, "No, really. Thank you. For everything." She hugged him, her face pressing into his salty, sandy T-shirt. His arms curled around her and he hugged her back.

Loki was flying again, Alana in his arms, just them standing there, only them.

His flying was interrupted as Alana let go. "You should go get something to eat, Loki."

He didn't want to leave her, but she smiled at him, saying, "Loki. I'm fine now, really. You, however, must be exhausted. Go get some food."

Grudgingly, he left the room, turning once more before he left to see her smiling.

* * *

Alana's smile faded off of her face as Loki left the room. She leaned her head against the wall. What was she _doing_? Why was she acting this way? She felt something for Loki, unquestionably, but she had learned to not let anyone close.

When people got close to her, they generally ended up dead.

He was simply another childish crush, an infatuation. There had been others before him, and there would be others after.

But no one else would come close to her. She wouldn't allow it. She'd made her decision a long time ago.

But then why did her decision feel so wrong?

* * *

Loki slumped against the other side of the wall. He couldn't, he _wouldn't_. Alana had someone else. Who else could Oliver possibly be? Besides, she'd pushed him away.

But she had also hugged him… no. He wouldn't dare to think about her. She thought of him as the alien she had to keep from destroying small towns, or a best a friend.

Nothing more.

And even if she had feelings for him, she was mortal. She would wither and die before he reached his second millennium.

Always, _always,_ alone.

* * *

The next morning, Alana decided to tell Loki something. He deserved it, after sitting with her for six hours.

She fiddled with her fork for a minute, then stood and walked over to where he was lounging, perusing a tattered copy of _Hamlet_.

"Loki… I may not have been completely honest with you."

Loki looked curious., setting his book down on his chest.

"Go on," he said when it was apparent she was reluctant to say more.

"These nightmares that I have aren't really just ordinary nightmares. I have post-traumatic stress disorder, and sometimes, well, a lot of the time, I have these dreams that make me… remember." Not that she could ever forget.

"So… what was your traumatic event?" Loki asked softly.

Alana's eyes filled with pain. "I don't talk about that. Ever."

She took a deep breath to calm herself, and continued.

"But they usually have to have a trigger, something that reminds me of it in a way… did I say anything while I was asleep? Anything at all? I sleep-talk sometimes, so…"

She fiddled with the strand of hair that was perpetually loose.

_I love you too. Goodnight, Oliver._

Loki shook his head, and casually said, "No."

_She loves him, not you. Don't make a mistake, Loki. Leave, now, before you're in too deep, _his brain said. _You are the rightful king of Asgard. She doesn't deserve you._

_Oh, shut up,_ said his heart. _I'm not leaving._

_I need her._

_And maybe she needs me, too._

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, but things are definitely going to heat up (cool down?) between Alana and Loki in the next chapter.**_  
_

**Please leave me a review if you're liking it so far!**


	16. So Cold

**SIXTEEN**

* * *

_You're so cold_

_Keep your hand in mine_

_Wise men wonder while strong men die_

_Show me how it ends, it's alright_

_Show me how defenseless you really are_

_Satisfied and empty inside_

_Well, that's alright, let's give this another try_

_If you find your family, don't you cry_

_In this land of make-believe, dead and dry_

_You're so cold, but you feel alive_

_Lay your hand on me one last time_

_\- "So Cold," Breaking Benjamin_

* * *

Alana was lounging in her favorite chair, flipping the pages of a book absentmindedly when Loki walked downstairs with a basket of laundry.

She called out, "Don't mix it with the lights this time!"

Loki snorted. All of his clothes were varying shades of black, gray, or green. He had never actually mixed his clothes with the lights, but Alana liked to tease him.

He didn't mind.

Alana watched him go, a small smile on her face, when suddenly a thought wormed its way into her mind. It nagged at her, so she sighed, giving into temptation, and got up to follow Loki.

"Hey, Loki… question. What do Asgardians wear?"

Loki turned around in surprise. "Why do you ask?"

She shrugged. "No reason, I was just wondering."

He quirked his eyebrows. "Well, our garb is more stylish."

Alana threw a dirty shirt at him.

He laughed, dodging it nimbly, and threw a sock at her. It hit her on the forehead… and _stuck_ there.

Alana tried to pull it off, but it wouldn't budge.

Loki threw another sock. It hit her arm and stuck there too.

Alana finally realized what was happening, and protested, "Hey! No magic!"

He smiled, and snapped his fingers; the socks fell off.

She looked suspiciously at him. "No way did you need to snap your fingers."

"No," he said mischievously, "that was just for dramatic effect."

Alana grinned, leaning against the wall. "No, but seriously. What do Asgardians wear?"

Loki paused, considering, before he replied, "The women usually wear dresses, unless they are warriors, and the men usually wear varying amounts of armor. The women's dresses vary more than the men's, and they usually have many more different styles."

Alana looked thoughtful. "What do you wear? Usually, I mean."

Loki looked at her. "Do you really want to see?"

"Yes," she responded immediately.

"Close your eyes," he whispered.

"More dramatic effect?" Alana asked with a twinge of sarcasm, though she closed her eyes anyway.

Loki smiled. She was smart.

He cast a simple illusion of his Asgardian clothing over himself. Even though he was actually wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, it appeared as if he was wearing his familiar green and black leather garb with his gold armor and helmet.

He might as well show her his dark side.

"You can open your eyes now."

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at him in wonder.

"That's… that's…"

Loki's heart sank. Did she think it was strange? Was she frightened? Perhaps there was a reason Thor was considered the handsome one.

"… awesome!" Alana finished.

Loki looked at her in astonishment. He had been called many things, but never awesome.

"It's so you!" she exclaimed. "And I love the helmet. How does it even stay on? Is it magic?"

She reached out to touch it, but it faded away as her fingers brushed through the illusion.

Her face fell a little. "Oh. I thought it was real."

"It is real," Loki said earnestly. "It's just on Asgard."

"So you wear that helmet all the time? It looks kind of heavy."

"No, only in battle. And in formal ceremonies."

There was silence, and then Alana said softly, "In battle?"

Loki looked at the floor, feeling somewhat ashamed. "Yes. As a prince of Asgard, I was required to learn to fight. And I have. I have fought. I have killed."

He looked up at her, meeting her eyes. "Do I scare you?" he said quietly.

Alana looked at him pensively. "No," she said finally.

"Well, I SHOULD!" Loki roared. She did not flinch. "You would be cowering in fear if you knew what I was, what I was born as! I am a monster, the monster parents tell their children about at night! I was taken as a bargaining chip, nothing more! I killed my own father!"

His voice broke and he slumped to the ground.

"You should kill _me_."

Alana knelt down beside him, taking his head in her hands, thumbs soft against his cheeks. "Listen to me, Loki. You are not a monster. And you do _not_ deserve to die. You're not going to die, I promise you. I'm not going to let you die. It's been something out of a dream, these last few weeks with you. Do you know how lonely I was?"

She laughed with tears in her eyes. "And you think you're the monster here."

Loki looked at her in confusion. "But I am," he whispered. "I am a monster."

"No, you aren't," she insisted. "Monsters don't… play piano and eat pizza and stay with people for six hours after they pass out on a beach somewhere. Monsters don't wear sunscreen or like trying strange foods or carry people back home."

She pressed her forehead to his, feeling as if she was going too far, but she couldn't resist and she had to make him understand.

"You are not a monster, Loki."

She closed her eyes, trying to make him believe it through sheer willpower. "You are not."

"Look at me!" he cried.

She opened her eyes. Loki's eyes, inches from hers, slowly turned red and blue frost spread across his skin.

"THIS is my true form! I am a Jotunn, a frost giant! They hunt down and kill all who tread across their paths! They are savage, and hunted, and feared. And it is not enough that I have to be one of these _monsters,_ but I have an Aesir form! Everyone thinks of me as an Asgardian! I belong to neither world."

Alana put her finger over his lips, shushing him.

He was silent, waiting for her disgust, her rage, her repulsion and hatred.

Instead, she traced the raised markings on his forehead with her forefinger, gently, softly.

He shuddered.

"Beautiful," she whispered.

Loki did not understand.

"You're beautiful, Loki."

No one had ever called him beautiful before.

"Look at you. You're… blue!" she smiled, her fingers idly stroking the ridges that trailed across his cheekbones.

"I promise you, you're not a monster. _My_ Loki is not a monster. We've all got monsters inside of us," she said softly. "What matters is if we choose to let them out."

She kissed him on the forehead, then left.

Loki watched his hands fade back to his Aesir form alone.

_My Loki,_ she had called him.

He smiled, the most at peace he had been with himself since he learned he was a Jotunn.

* * *

Alana blew out a deep breath. She hated herself. She was still getting closer to Loki, despite her promise to herself.

And she had _kissed_ him. Admittedly, on the forehead, but still.

Why was her life so complicated?

Oh, other girls could like boys without having to worry about hidden powers, PTSD, the fact that the person they liked was an alien, and the fact that they were a government agent told to take down said person at any provocation.

Not _her._

She had to continue the way she had been, like a tower, strong and sturdy, not needing any help from anyone to stand tall.

But she felt that she had to help Loki, somehow… her heart had almost broken when he had called himself a monster.

Her life was definitely too complicated.


	17. I Will Not Bow

**SEVENTEEN**

* * *

_I will not bow_

_I will not break_

_I will shut the world away_

_I will not fall_

_I will not fade_

_I will take your breath away_

_And I'll survive; paranoid_

_I have lost the will to change_

_And I am not proud, cold-blooded fake_

_I will shut the world away_

_\- "I Will Not Bow," Breaking Benjamin_

* * *

It was a warm evening in early fall and Loki was furious.

With himself, that was.

Why couldn't he just tell Alana that he loved her, that she had saved him, that he needed her? Was he too afraid of rejection?

Apparently, he was.

He impatiently paced back and forth, trying not to scuff the hardwood floors.

Alana had decided that they should go out to dinner in celebration of two months of not killing each other.

It was a mark of how their relationship had evolved that this didn't make Loki want to kill her.

In fact, it made him laugh.

She had made a reservation at a restaurant and apparently, it was a bit more formal than usual, so he was wearing a pair of black slacks and a dark green V-neck shirt and a black sport coat.

He paced some more, wondering why Alana wasn't downstairs yet.

Of course, he didn't mind.

That meant he could worry a bit more about how to tell her he loved her.

* * *

Alana was _trying_ to hurry. She was.

But a little part of her mind kept trying to make her look pretty.

She was trying to squelch it, but it was winning.

She was wearing black jeans (the easiest thing to decide on) and had finally chosen a deep cranberry-colored strappy top. Her hair hung in loose waves around her shoulders.

She wasn't comfortable with being pretty. She hadn't tried to make herself look pretty in a long time.

But now the traitorous voice in her head kept telling her that she would regret it otherwise.

She finally managed to subdue the voice and finished, pulling on a pair of gray suede ballet flats that she hadn't worn in _years._

Why did she even _want_ to go to a formal-ish restaurant in the first place, again?

_Because you want a chance to look good for Loki, that's why, _the voice laughed snidely.

_Shut up_, she thought and headed downstairs.

* * *

Loki was still pacing when he heard a slight cough coming from the stairs.

He turned to the stairs and froze in awe.

Alana was standing at the top, looking more beautiful than any of the goddesses on Asgard.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Oh, yes. Just… hungry, I suppose," he said quickly.

She nodded, smiling and said, "Me too. I'm famished."

As she descended the stairs, it was as if he was seeing her for the first time again.

Her gray eyes sparkled with excitement and her long hair flowed down her back.

He wanted to kiss her _so _badly.

But he resisted the urge and instead offered her his arm.

She laughed, saying, "Are we being all fancy then?" but she took it anyway, looping her arm around his.

"Of course," he said mischievously. "After all, we are going to a formal-ish dinner."

* * *

Dinner had been wonderful, and not because of the food.

They had come home at around eight, and Alana had tried to make a milkshake and it had splattered all over the walls.

He had pulled off his jacket and helped her clean it off, laughing together about her incompetence at handling food. Then, Alana had curled up on the couch, with him sitting next to her, one arm on the back of the sofa and reading over her shoulder

He felt the happiest that he had been in years.

And if she was acting this way, than maybe, just maybe, she had feelings for him too.

_Remember Oliver,_ said a part of his mind. _She has someone else. Someone else kisses her and holds her and that is the one whom she loves. Not you. Never you. Go back to Asgard and take back what was yours! Take back your throne!_

_Forget this mortal girl._

He sighed and stood up, walking away from Alana, running his hand through his hair.

Despite his treacherous thoughts, he knew he needed her more than ever.

Alana saw his torment. She didn't know why, but she knew she had to try and help him somehow, so she stood up too, placing a hand on his shoulder, causing him to stop in his tracks.

She asked him gently, "What's wrong?"

Loki seemed to wrestle with something, hesitating in a way that was very unlike him.

"Please," she said.

He let out a sigh. "Alana…" Loki said softly, turning around to face her, "I need your help."

"What do you need?" she asked, her gaze fixed to his, unable to pull her eyes away. His eyes were full of desperation and pain and longing, and she ached to see him like that. "What do you need?" she whispered once again.

He was moving closer, closer, closer, until he was a hairsbreadth away. He stroked her cheek with a long, pale finger and Alana felt shivers running up and down her spine. She closed her eyes involuntarily.

"You," he whispered.

Loki's lips touched hers, softly. _I should pull away_, she thought. _I can't do this_, her mind protested, but his lips were soft and warm and sweet and her body was betraying her, heart racing and skin flushing. He smelled like leather and metal and ice, and his hand crept up the back of her neck and tangled in her hair, pulling her closer. _He_ loves _me. No, no, no, no one loves me, pull yourself together, Alana, stop this!_ But he was kissing her, passionately, and the world was spinning, and she couldn't think straight, she couldn't think about anything but his lips on hers, and her hands around his neck (when had she put them there?), and his other hand reaching around to cradle her lower back. It seemed as if electricity coursed through her body whenever he touched her. Why had she resisted, again? What had she been afraid of?

She couldn't remember.

So she kissed him back, and his body, his lean frame and sturdy hands supported her, and for one shining moment he was hers, and it was like flying, like being carried across the stars on a beam of light.

* * *

Loki pulled her closer to him, inhaling her sweet scent, her body pressing to his, her hands on his neck, clasping him closer to her until it was as if they were one, and she was his, nothing would take her away from him, she was kissing him too, and nothing in all of the universe could give him this feeling, nothing. He would not trade her for power over all the nine realms, for the throne of Asgard, for anything. He needed her, she was a light in the darkness, a beacon for him, calling out to him and saving him and her body was pressed to his, her lips on his, and it was the sweetest moment of his life.

He was hyperaware of the softness of her body, the curve of her spine, the smoothness of her hair. She was his, and he was hers, forever and ever and ever. He loved her with such a fullness that he felt his heart would burst, and he knew that he could never, ever leave her.

* * *

Alana was soaring, flying, but then she was remembering, and as she remembered she fell. _Oliver parents dead my fault my fault I won't let him die, I won't, I can't I can't love him but I do love him no I don't you do Alana, you've always loved him, but stop kissing him, stop, stop it, he's in danger._

_You're killing him._

She pulled away from him with a cry, breaking the kiss, breaking the moment, turning away from him; her eyes squeezed shut, her body rigid. She took a deep breath, composing herself. "Loki, I… I can't. I just can't."

There was silence for a moment, and then Loki spoke coldly, his voice cutting through her like a scalpel.

"This is about Oliver, isn't it?"

She turned around, pain in her eyes. "How do you know about Oliver?"

Loki said nothing, but on the inside, his heart was screaming as if it had been ripped apart. _Take me back_, he thought. _Take me back to when her lips were pressed to mine and the world was perfect._

_Why am I always alone?_

_Always alone._

"Loki, I… I think you deserve to know the truth about me. Why I can't… why we can't…" Her voice trailed off.

She took a deep breath. "I know a good place to talk."

Loki turned on his heel and left.

And all the pain and suffering and rejection of Alana's past came pouring down onto her, and the tears she had suppressed for so long flowed out like water from a broken dam, and she fell to the ground and wept.

* * *

**A/N: Well, finally got_ that_ out of the way. Yay! **

**Thanks to all those lovely reviewers out there: Isa (Guest), Calliope's Scribe, Hugepuffball, and my other guest reviewers.**

**Leave me a note and tell me if you hate me yet. (Believe me, it's going to get much, _much_, worse... *laughs evilly*)**


	18. Iris

**EIGHTEEN**

* * *

_And I'd give up forever to touch you_

_'Cause I know that you feel me somehow_

_You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be_

_And I don't wanna go home right now_

_And all I can taste is this moment_

_And all I can breathe is your life_

_When sooner or later it's over_

_I just don't wanna miss you tonight_

_And I don't want the world to see me_

_'Cause I don't think that they'd understand_

_When everything's made to be broken_

_I just want you to know who I am_

_\- "Iris," The Goo Goo Dolls_

* * *

Alana lay on the roof, staring at the stars. Their distant light calmed her and soothed her, but could not erase the pain twisting in her chest.

Oliver… the first time she had heard his name in five years. How had Loki known?

She couldn't deny to herself anymore that she loved Loki, and she had finally realized that he was in love with her too. But she couldn't endanger him, she couldn't, and she didn't know what to do.

The memory of the kiss haunted her and she could almost feel Loki's lips pressed to hers and his hand in her hair.

She lay on the roof, and found constellations, familiar, comforting.

The door leading to the roof opened, and footsteps padded silently behind her. Determinedly, with the rest of the strength she had left, she kept her eyes on the stars.

"Forgive me."

Alana was surprised. She had not expected this, to say the least.

Loki lay down next to her on the roof cautiously, as if he expected she would throw him off.

"On Asgard, we have thousands of times more stars. Would you like to see them?" he asked hesitantly.

She nodded, eyes still fixed on the night sky. If she looked at him, she was either going to punch him or kiss him so hard her head spun, and she was trying to restrain herself from the latter.

Loki waved his hand, and in a flash of green light, the ink-black sky grew brighter with the light of a million more stars.

Alana gazed in awe and wonder at Asgard's stars. Some looked so close that she felt she could reach out and touch them.

And though she wished she could, she couldn't put it off any longer.

She owed him that, at least.

"When I was sixteen, my family was killed."

Loki lay beside her in silence. She was grateful. She didn't want to hear empty words.

His silence told her that he knew something about suffering, too.

"It was my fault," she said, bluntly, leaving no room for argument.

Loki turned his head, studying her face.

"I'm a telepath. And telekinetic." She took a deep breath. "When I was sixteen, it just… started happening. It was like a section of my brain had been unlocked. I could read minds, move things… I thought I was going crazy."

Loki's eyes searched hers, seeing the pain written there, the pain that came with her memories.

"Most of my friends left. I never told them, but they didn't understand, they were… scared, I guess. Of me. And then, one day, there were these boys."

She shivered involuntarily. "They weren't very smart, but they had realized that something was different about me. They cornered me one day after school, and tried to find out. I refused to tell them anything, but I got so mad that the walls just came down. On them."

She looked curiously at Loki, whose face was full of loathing, his jaw clenched. She smiled a bit at his hatred of these boys, whose names he did not know, just for daring to hurt her.

It was rather endearing.

"They were hospitalized, but the event made the papers. And, a week later…" a tear sprang to her eye, "my parents were killed."

Haltingly, she explained to him the fear of that night, the terror, watching her parents murdered and her brother captured. She told him of the kidnapper, of his plots and murderous intent, what she had been forced to do, of her brothers' death, and how she had barely been saved.

"That's when I was shot," she said, rubbing her collarbone, the scar white in the starlight. "And when I woke up, I promised myself that I would never use my powers again. They took too many people I loved."

As Alana finished her story, Loki now realized how she had known he was an outcast, and a Jotunn, and why she had responded to his thoughts in her sleep.

"At the beach," he said, "you said 'I love you, too' after I thought that I loved you."

Alana blushed a little. "Apparently I can't control my powers when I'm asleep."

"Then you said, 'Goodnight, Oliver.' "

Alana looked up at the stars again. " 'I love you, too. Goodnight, Oliver,' was the last thing I ever said to my little brother before he was killed."

Loki's cool fingers intertwined with hers and she squeezed his hand gratefully, taking a shaky breath.

"And it was my fault, Loki, and that's why I can't do this, because everyone close to me, everyone that I love, always ends up dead because of me. And if you died, Loki, I just, I just don't think I could take it."

"Look at me, Alana."

She looked into his eyes and saw a determination there.

"It was not your fault."

She averted her eyes. "Loki, I've heard this before. I know it was my fault."

"No, it was not. You did nothing wrong, Alana. It was he who killed your parents and your brother."

"I existed, Loki. If I didn't have my powers, none of this would have happened."

"You're right. None of this would have happened. I would be dead or in chains. You would not know me and I would not know you."

He smiled sadly. "I would not love you."

Alana lay there, feeling a glimmer of hope in her heart. "It wasn't my fault?" she asked, like a small child seeking reassurance.

"No. No, it wasn't, Alana. I promise."

A tear slipped out of her eye. Loki wiped it away with his thumb. "Are you sad?" he asked.

"No," she said softly, "I'm happy. So, so happy."

They lay there together, hands entwined, for maybe ten minutes in silence.

Then Loki began to tell her his story.

"I was found after a great battle between the Jotunns and the Aesir. Odin found me, a runt Jotunn baby, in the rubble, and decided to take me back to Asgard when he picked me up and my skin changed to Aesir. I was to be a bargaining chip for the future."

He sighed. "Thor was my older brother, and I looked up to him, I loved him, but as I grew I realized that he was full of pride and would destroy all who got in his way. All of our lives, Odin would remind us that only one could be king. And Thor was too hotheaded to be king."

"As children and as princes growing up in Asgard, we had no shortage of friends. Not true friends, mind you. Or perhaps they were truly Thor's friends, but not mine. I was the dark haired one, who did not even look like he belonged. My talents lay in magic, not in fighting, and so I was further mocked. My brother was the golden boy, and I the shadow."

He said all this bitterly, as if bearing a heavy burden.

"When Father chose Thor to be king, I was angry. He was not ready. And I wanted to be king. So I traveled to Jotunheim and made a bargain with the Jotunn king Laufey. I smuggled a pair of frost giants into Asgard's weapons vault. They disrupted the ceremony, as I had planned."

He smirked. "I am the god of mischief, after all."

"That was wrong," Alana said quietly, sitting up, studying his face. "Your mischief killed those two Jotunns, didn't it?"

The smirk fell off Loki's face. "I know."

He took a deep breath, sat up, and continued, "Thor was infuriated. He insisted on going to Jotunheim to make the Jotunns pay. I tried to talk him out of it, but he shook me off, like always. When we got there, he behaved with all his usual lack of tact and almost got us all killed. A fight broke out. One of his friends was injured when a frost giant grabbed his arm. 'Don't let them touch you!' he cried. I heard too late. But I was not injured when a Jotunn grabbed me. My arm turned blue."

Alana smiled, remembering his Jotunn form.

"I smote the giant and my arm faded back, but I knew that something was wrong. Odin came and took us back to Asgard and banished Thor to Earth. And I was satisfied, but for the knowledge that had come to me."

He grimaced.

"I stole away to the Weapons Vault, and lifted the Casket of Ancient Winters. My arms turned blue again, and I suppose my face did as well. Odin came, and I grew angry with him, but more at myself. He revealed my true parentage. My father was Laufey. Now I knew why I could not rule, why Odin loved Thor more than me. I was infuriated with him. Then, he fell into the Odinsleep. With Thor gone and Odin incapacitated, I could now rule. I planned to destroy the Jotunns."

His voice broke. "I was so angry, Alana. I wanted them all to die. So, I visited Thor and told him that father had died and that he would never be allowed back on Asgard again. Then I traveled to Jotunheim and told Laufey that I wished for him to kill Odin. They trusted me and came with me. Before they could kill Odin, I killed them. I killed my father."

Alana stroked the back of his hand gently.

"I then returned to Asgard and sent the Destroyer to kill my brother. However, he escaped and returned to Asgard, just as I was about to destroy Jotunheim using the Bifrost. We fought. He destroyed the Bifrost, and we fell. I held the scepter of Asgard, which Thor held, and he held onto Odin, who had awoken, with the other. I realized that Odin would not understand me, ever. And so I let go, and fell."

His eyes were full of pain and the shadow of his past.

"I wanted to die, Alana. I wanted it to be over. Forever. I was just so weary, so weary. I just wanted to die."

He smiled. "And then I landed here."

Alana stood up slowly, gazing at him.

He stood up too, and waited silently for her judgment, her decision, her repulsion.

She stepped towards him and cradled his face in her hands.

"I didn't think that I could love you," she said softly. "But now that I can, know that I will always, _always_ love you, no matter what. You may stray towards the dark, but I will always pull you back."

"Do you promise?" Loki whispered.

Her hands drifted around to clasp behind his neck. "I promise," she breathed.

She kissed him, softly, tenderly, her fingers twining in the dark hair on the nape of his neck.

Loki felt the tension that had been in the pit of his heart since Asgard drain away and he kissed her back, his arms curling around her waist.

And there they stood, the telepath and the trickster, finally together, finally at peace, embracing by the light of Asgard's stars.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you all for over 3,500 views! And thanks to my reviewers from the last chapter, Hugepuffball and Isa (Guest). You guys are awesome.**

**And now they're happy, and adorable, and everything is fluffy right now! So go ahead and enjoy it... while it lasts.**

***thunders ominously in distance***

**Ohh, I hate myself.**

**Drop a review, please!**


	19. You Fight Me

**NINETEEN**

* * *

_I don't know what isn't real,_

_But it's easy _

_To beat me._

_(Suck it in)_

_Life is sink or swim._

_Love is blinding, no surviving._

_I don't know what I want to be yet_

_But I can show that I need to see this._

_No time for lies or empty fights,_

_I'm on your side._

\- _"You Fight Me," Breaking Benjamin_

* * *

Loki hadn't dared to sleep all night.

He thought that if he drifted off, he might wake up and find everything to be just a dream.

Instead, he held Alana, his pale arms wrapped around her; he studied her face, relaxed and peaceful in sleep. Her chest rose and fell gently as she breathed, her lashes dark against her porcelain skin.

As they lay on the roof that night, the temperature had dropped, and noticing her shivering, he had given her his sweater.

It was large on her, but she had gratefully curled up in it, eventually falling asleep in his arms as the stars twinkled and the earth spun.

The sun was rising over the trees now, the sky shot through with pale purple and gold and yet his gaze rested firmly on her. She was more beautiful than the sun, than the sky, and she was finally his.

Her pale eyes fluttered as she yawned, shifting and burying her face into his chest.

"Morning," she murmured, voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

He kissed the top of her head. "I love you," he said simply.

He could feel her smiling. "What was that for?" she asked sleepily.

"I waited too long to tell you. I'm trying to make up for it now."

Her arms curled around him and she let out a sigh of perfect contentment.

"Can we stay here forever?" she murmured, still caught in sleep's embrace.

"Of course," Loki said, fingers playing with her hair, rich and glowing in the morning sunlight.

"I didn't have any nightmares," she yawned. "Probably the first night in… five years?"

He stroked her hair.

She untangled herself and stared into his eyes, all traces of sleepiness gone. "It's because of you, you know."

She kissed him lightly, soft lips pressing to his.

"Thank you. You've set me free."

He pulled her closer to him, breathing in her smell, hands caressing her face, lips barely touching hers. Her eyes fluttered as he kissed her, slow and deep.

When he broke the kiss, she yawned again, curling up against his chest. "Did you sleep at _all_?"

"No," he answered truthfully.

"Don't worry," she smiled. "I promise not to disappear."

"Well, in that case…"

He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun's rays. Alana was already dropping off again, her body cradled against his.

He let sleep take him, content and at peace with the world.

* * *

In the weeks that followed, Alana slowly started to use her powers again.

It wasn't that she was out of practice, though she supposed she was, not using them for five years. It was more like her mind had been resting and had just woken up.

Not using her powers had not come easily to her, but neither did giving in, and she wasn't going to let herself be swept along by her own mind.

She started small, throwing things and pushing things, opening doors, picking locks, that sort of thing.

Loki supported her throughout it. The first time she had thrown him something without looking, he was stunned almost into silence.

But going slow was boring.

She knew she had to take it one day at a time, but she wanted to _fight._

And so this was how she and Loki came to spar for the first time.

* * *

"Ready?" Alana grinned, twirling her dagger in her hand, her breath steaming in the cold air.

She had outfitted them with weapons, but no armor. This was mainly because she didn't have any, other than her bulletproof vest, and anyways, she trusted Loki not to hurt her.

Loki shrugged, saying, "I suppose. Are you sure - "

"I'm _so_ gonna beat you up."

Loki smirked. "You can try."

She smiled mischievously and said, "Go on, then."

She stood her ground, arms held at her sides.

"Alana – "

"Attack me! Come on. I trust you."

Sighing heavily, Loki began to circle her, feet silent on the frozen ground. "Attacking is really more Thor's style."

"Just shut up and fight me, Laufeyson."

Rolling his eyes, he started with a quick stab to her shoulder.

That is, he _would_ have stabbed her shoulder if his blade hadn't bounced off four inches away.

He raised his eyebrows and tried a slash, then another stab, aiming for different parts of her body. All were repelled by her telekinetic "bubble."

"That's handy," he commented.

She smirked and then, faster than he could see, swept his legs out from under him. "It's on," she said.

Loki rolled and came up in a fighting stance. "It's definitely on."

She went on offense almost immediately, alternately trying to stab him with her dagger and pushing him with her powers. Loki was left with defense, parrying her dagger strokes and trying not to get thrown across the field when necessary.

They locked blades again and again, each trying to obtain the upper hand. Loki was a better fighter, but Alana had her powers.

She used her skills to her advantage, darting around him throwing telekinetic punches, using her telepathy to know what he was about to do.

When she disarmed him and held her dagger to his throat, he let out a small smile.

"Yield?" she asked, only slightly out of breath.

Instead of answering, he let the illusion of himself disappear. Alana looked confused for a split second, then turned, eyes raking the field. Loki, who had snuck up behind her, became visible, and quickly reached out to grab and twist her wrist, forcing her to drop her weapon. He then slid his dagger out from his sleeve and pressed it to her neck.

"Do you?" he said smoothly.

"Aww," she said, yielding reluctantly, but with a smile on her face. "I thought I had you."

"Forever."

He spun her around and kissed her, long and deep. She let out a little noise of surprise, then melted in his arms.

When he broke the kiss, she looked dazed. "I think that's cheating," she managed.

"Oh, I _never_ play fair."

He kissed her again, lightly.

"Never."

Lost in the moment, neither of them noticed the black car watching silently from the road, concealed by the trees.

Neither of them knew that their time was ticking down.

* * *

Coulson had been coming for a random check on Alana and Loki. Mostly, to make sure that one or the other wasn't dead. As the car moved slowly up the road, he caught a glimpse of metal flashing inside her yard.

"Stop," he said. The agent (rookie) promptly slammed on the brakes, causing him to lurch forward.

Massaging his shoulder, he peered through the trees. "Pass me the binoculars," he ordered. Looking through them, he muttered an expletive. "Guns ready, agents."

His crew obligingly readied their weapons, looking through the window curiously. Their jaws hit the floor.

Alana and Loki were in the middle of an intense battle, daggers flashing on daggers. They spun and twisted with such accuracy and precision that it looked like a dance.

And she was using her powers.

Coulson sucked in a breath. Of all the times that _he _had to decide on a random check, this was quite probably the most terrible time ever.

"Should we shoot him, sir?" a young agent asked. "No," Coulson said. "You'll hit her too, they're fighting too close." Obviously. _Rookies,_ he thought wryly. _Of all the time to have rookies. _"If he is poised to kill though, shoot him."

Alana was winning, he noticed in surprise. Her telepathy was clearly at work, as she was countering his blows almost before they came. Perhaps Fury had been right about her after all.

He relaxed slightly as she disarmed him, holding the point of her dagger to his throat. Her mouth moved, but he couldn't make out the words.

Suddenly, Loki's body shimmered and faded in a burst of green light. "Damn." Coulson swore. "Get ready, men!"

Alana looked confused, turning around, but he was nowhere to be found.

He appeared, quick as lightning, behind her, forcing her to drop her weapon, pressing his own to her neck.

The agents moved nervously. "Should we fire, sir?"

Coulson was on the verge of giving the order to fire when he noticed something strange.

She was _smiling._

What the hell?

And then Loki twirled her around and _kissed _her.

Coulson was stunned into silence. Was this some sort of a trick of his? What was he doing?

What was _she _doing?

Loki broke the kiss and they spoke for a second, then he kissed her again.

"Damn it, Cooper," Coulson muttered. "What have you done?"

* * *

**A/N: Man, I just can't give them a break, can I? **

**You asked for longer chapters, guys, and I'm happy to present you with _another_ 2,000 word chapter! Yay!**

**And thank you all for 4,000 views! You're the best.**

**Please drop me a review... they are loved very much.**


	20. Runaway

** TWENTY**

* * *

_Graffiti decorations_

_Under a sky of dust_

_A constant wave of tension_

_On top of broken trust_

_The lessons that you taught me_

_I learn were never true_

_Now I find myself in question_

_(They point the finger at me again)_

_Guilty by association_

_(You point the finger at me again)_

_\- "Runaway," Linkin Park_

* * *

Alana was cuddled up next to Loki on the couch in the TV room. She was making him watch all the Star Wars movies. Being a fervent believer in order, she had made him watch A New Hope first, then the rest of the original movies. Currently, they were watching Attack of the Clones.

Her brother had always called this the "sappy love one," protesting "all they do is kiss!"

It was funny that Loki had said almost the same thing. "Enough with the kissing, Anakin!" he had yelled once. "Go kill Palpatine! He's evil!" She laughed so hard her sides hurt.

She loved him even more every day, learning the little things about him. He didn't like pepper on his meat. He liked Shakespeare. He got up early and made her breakfast. He would sometimes sneak into her bedroom at night and hold her in his arms. (The first time he had done this, she'd almost punched him in fright and surprise.) His eyes sparkled when he was amused, like that one time when she accidentally set a steak on fire.

But she loved his flaws, too. He was not perfect, but neither was she.

She studied his face in the dim light of the flickering screen, paying no attention to the movie anymore. He was still absorbed, watching Padmé and Anakin about to go into the arena.

When Anakin kissed Padmé again, Loki sighed in exasperation and muted the TV.

"Hey!" Alana said, startled out of her contemplation.

He smirked. "I know you weren't watching anymore."

She blushed a little, cheeks reddening.

"And," he said softly, his hand reaching for her face, "it bothers me that no one's kissing _you._"

"Anyone in mind?" she asked breathlessly. How could he _still_ do this to her?

"Mm. Yes."

And then he was kissing her, thumbs brushing her cheeks, lips warm and fingers cold, and he tasted like ice and metal and something she couldn't name, and she kissed him too, her hands in his hair, while in the background Anakin was being charged by a giant monster.

It was very romantic. Until the phone rang.

Alana recognized the ringtone, and tried to get up, but Loki caught her wrist and pulled her back. "Loki, I have to get that."

"No, you don't. You need to come kiss me."

"Loki, that's Coulson. I can't _not_ pick it up, he'll think something's up - "

He wrapped his arms around her more tightly. "No."

"God, you're stubborn." She used her telekinesis and pulled the phone to her ear. "Hello, Agent Coulson."

"Agent Cooper." He sounded even more uncomfortable than usual. "We need you to come in."

"Hmm," she said, not hearing. Loki was planting little kisses down her neck and she was a _bit_ distracted. "Wait, what?"

"Agent Cooper, is this a bad time?"

_Yes_, Loki mouthed. She pushed him playfully and said, "No, sorry, I was in the middle of watching a movie and got a bit distracted."

Coulson sighed a little and said, "We need you to come in. It's a top-priority thing that Fury wants you on."

That made her sit up straight. "I _am_ on a top-priority assignment. Or is the prisoner supposed to be released now?"

Loki made a mock-pouty face. _Not nice_, he mouthed.

"No, but… Cooper, this is more important."

"More important than the safety of the world?"

_That's rude,_ Loki mouthed.

"It _is_ about the safety of the world."

"And I'm supposed to just leave him here and _hope_ he doesn't escape and attack New York?"

"No. Bring him with you. We'll watch him while you're busy."

Loki overheard this bit and glared at the phone.

Alana didn't like it either, but what could she do? _Hey boss, well, I'm_ really_ in love with the prisoner, so, you know, we just want to spend time together. That okay with you?_

She sighed. "When do you want me there?"

"Both of you. Tomorrow. As early as possible."

"Fine. Goodbye, Coulson."

"Goodbye, Cooper."

She hung up and pushed the phone through the air, dropping it onto a plush chair. "Well," she said, trying to make light of it, "you up for a road trip tomorrow?"

Loki got up and switched off the TV. "I don't like it. At all. They're splitting us up. We could be in danger."

Alana tucked her legs under her. "It's Coulson. And it's S.H.I.E.L.D. They wouldn't hurt me, I _work _for them. And you're a prisoner, they can't legally hurt you either. They don't even know that there _is_ an us."

"Still." He turned to her, green eyes filled with worry. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

She smiled and stretched out her arms. "I'll be fine. I promise. Now, I think we were in the middle of something?"

"Temptress," Loki muttered under his breath, but he kissed her all the same.

* * *

The next morning, Alana dressed in her S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform and Loki in his plainest clothes (he _was_ a prisoner), meeting downstairs to a light breakfast. Conversation was light as well, full of banter.

She locked up the house, and turned to Loki standing close to her. "I'll miss you," he murmured. "Save the world quickly so I can see you again."

"It won't be too long. I promise." She hugged him. "And I'll miss you too."

"Kiss for the road?" Loki asked.

"If you insist," she smiled, hands still around his neck, pulling him in for one last sweet kiss before their journey.

A small camera in the fence, planted by Coulson, saw it all. And Coulson, miles away, saw it too, and sighed. It was undeniable. They had formed a romantic relationship. Alana couldn't be trusted to guard him anymore. _And_ she was using her powers. It was a dangerous combination. If he could manage to turn her, nothing would stop her.

He had to stop it before it got that far.

* * *

**A/N: Uh oh. Bad times ahead...**

**Thanks for 5,000+ views! You guys are fantastic.**

**Please, please, please drop a review! They really make my day.**

**Love, masterofthefall**


	21. Skyfall

**TWENTY-ONE**

* * *

_This is the end_

_Hold your breath and count to ten_

_Feel the earth move and then_

_Hear my heart burst again_

_For this is the end_

_I've drowned and dreamt this moment_

_So overdue I owe them_

_Swept away, I'm stolen_

_Let the sky fall_

_When it crumbles_

_We will stand tall_

_Face it all together_

_Let the sky fall_

_When it crumbles_

_We will stand tall_

_Face it all together_

_At skyfall_

_\- "Skyfall," Adele_

* * *

They had arrived without a fuss. Loki was actually an incredible actor, putting a look of disdain and boredom on his face as easily as it could possibly be. When the guard had waved their car through the gate, he dropped the façade and winked at her, but when Alana rolled down the window again his face changed in the blink of an eye.

They were escorted out the car after parking, and Loki had mockingly held out his hands to one of the guards for handcuffs. They looked like they would have _liked_ to cuff him, but a stern glance from Alana quelled that.

They were shown into a wide hallway with many doors. "Tenth door on the right," an agent said, ushering them inside, and closing the doors behind them.

"Something's wrong," Alana whispered. "I can feel it. I think there's someone - "

And hordes of armored S.H.I.E.L.D. agents poured out of the doors on either side, plowing towards them, yanking them in opposite directions from each other.

"Alana!" Loki yelled, all pretense dropping, his hand stretching out for hers. "Let go of me!" he hissed at the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents pulling him from her. His magic was plentiful, and incapacitated some, but the agents were many, and he couldn't, he couldn't grab her.

"Loki!" Alana cried, lashing out with her mind, knocking agents off their feet, pushing away her assailants telekinetically, throwing them down the hallway, but scores more were flooding into the hallway, and she was being overwhelmed too.

The long, pale fingers of Loki's hand reached for her, stretching, straining, and her fingers strained back. They were so close, so close, so close…

And then a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent whipped out a syringe from his pocket, shooting it into Alana's neck.

"No!" Loki screamed. But it was too late. He could see her eyes fluttering, her body swaying and finally slumping back into the arms of two agents, who lifted her up and carried her away.

"No! No, you can't – "

And then a needle sunk its way into his neck, too, and he struggled to hold on to reality, but it slowly slipped away, ceiling swimming, leaving nothing but darkness.

* * *

After about an hour, Loki came to, in a small room, bare except for a cot and an exposed fluorescent light.

His head was pounding, and he couldn't remember where he was or what had happened to him.

A scream rang out from down the hallway, and his memories came flooding back.

"Alana!" he yelled, and rushed to the door, but it was locked.

She screamed again, and he tried to magic the door open, but in his rage and terror he was unable to.

How dare they hurt her? She was a member of S.H.I.E.L.D., damn it! She was _his_, and once they let him out –

The door opened and Coulson walked in, calm and collected.

"Hello, Loki," he said.

If Loki had had a dagger, Coulson would have been dead before he could take his idiotic sunglasses off of his head.

Since he didn't, he decided to _stare_ daggers at him instead.

"How dare you hurt her. How dare you. She was defenseless, she was only trying – "

Coulson cut him off, saying, "I don't believe telekinesis counts as ever being defenseless."

"Why is she screaming?" Loki spat out. "What are you doing to her?"

Coulson said, "Nothing."

Loki glared at him.

"I don't believe you."

"It's true. She's only sedated, she should be asleep. But she keeps screaming. We have a pain indicator, and it's showing a zero. But her brain waves are off the charts. She's not in pain. Just screaming."

"Oh, just screaming," Loki spat.

"We're getting some of her friends in to try and calm her down."

He listened to someone speaking in his earpiece.

"Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton are in there now."

Silence filled the room until Loki spoke again.

"What do you plan to do with her?"

Coulson sighed. "She is too dangerous to continue on in the way she has. Especially with you."

Loki's eyes narrowed, his hands clenched.

"We're going to wipe her memory. It will be wiped of her powers and of… you."

Loki's silence was more dangerous than his outright fury.

Another scream rang out, echoing down the corridors.

Coulson left.

* * *

Inside a hospital room, Agents Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton stood beside a bed.

Natasha sighed. They had tried everything they could think of, but Alana still screamed. She was angry, and upset.

She had felt the foreboding, deep in her gut, when Alana had been assigned to watch the prisoner; she was so new. It was her first real assignment. And it was a dangerous one too. But Alana had called Natasha, told her that Loki didn't seem to be a bad person, that he just needed a friend.

And look where she was now, where _he_ had gotten her, in a hospital bed, screaming, attached to consoles with so many wires, _so _many wires, and her mind would be wiped of everything and –

She took a deep breath, detaching herself from the moment. It was something she was good at.

Beside her, Clint rubbed his neck. "I can't stay here," he murmured. Natasha glanced at him, briefly. "Go," she said.

Clint took one last glance at Alana, and then left. Natasha knew that Alana was like a little sister to him.

She would never admit it, but she didn't want to stay either.

* * *

Loki pressed his head against the cold concrete wall. It was his fault. All his fault. And she wouldn't remember, she wouldn't remember _anything_.

Anything.

It seemed so long ago that they had been watching movies on the couch, carefree and at ease. So long ago that night under the stars. So long ago.

Alana screamed again and he shuddered.

Coulson reentered the room silently.

"What do you want now?" Loki hissed. "What more will you do? How can you bring me lower?"

Coulson cleared his throat. "We need you."

"I refuse," he said, his head still pressed to the wall.

Coulson said, "I don't think you quite understand – "

"But I do," said Loki, and he turned towards Coulson, pure anger and pain filling his eyes. "You want me to hold her while she screams, to reassure her that it will be alright, that everything will be fine. And then she will forget me. You expect me to _help_ you? While you do this? While you kill her? No."

Coulson closed his eyes, briefly. "Loki, the way she's struggling right now, if we don't get her calmed down, her whole mind will die if we attempt to wipe it."

"So let her _go_."

"We can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"Can't."

The word was simple, balding. You didn't need to be god of lies to see their truth.

And Loki knew that he couldn't leave her now, couldn't let her go at this alone.

"Fine."

* * *

**A/N: Whaaat? Another update, so soon? It's the next day, for crying out loud! I _never_ do that! I make you wait for _ages_...**

**But... thanks to some very lovely reviews (kudos to Fantasy-Mania31 and kadrules2014!) one of which requested an update ASAP... here you are!**

**And I know, it is in _no way_ a good ****chapter. At all. Sorry. (Believe me, it actually killed me to write the next chapter.)**

**Sorry again.**

**Poor Alana.**

**Drop a review and tell me how much you hate me. ;D (More reviews=faster updates!)**

**\- masterofthefall**


	22. Prelude 1221

**TWENTY-TWO**

* * *

_This is what I brought you, this you can keep,_

_This is what I brought, you may forget me._

_I promise to depart just promise one thing,_

_Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep._

_This is what I brought you, this you can keep,_

_This is what I brought, you may forget me._

_I promise you my heart just promise to sing,_

_Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep._

_\- "Prelude 12/21," AFI_

* * *

Loki walked down the hall, escorted by S.H.I.E.L.D. agents on all sides and felt a strong burst of déja vu.

Had it really only been a year ago that he had been lying in a hospital like this, wounded and afraid?

Only a year that he had known her?

Only a year that he had loved her?

He closed his eyes briefly, steeling himself for the sight of seeing Alana. Was she bruised? Was she broken? Would she recognize him?

Another scream rang out and he flinched.

He walked toward her door. His hand rested on the cool metal of the doorknob.

He wanted to turn and run. He wanted to flee back to before, to when everything was fine and perfect.

But he couldn't.

He turned the knob.

As Loki stepped into the room, Alana stopped thrashing abruptly. The doctors and nurses looked at the screens in disbelief. Her mental distress had gone down to almost nothing the second he set foot inside the room.

Loki heard nothing, saw nothing, but for Alana. His eyes were solely on her.

She lay in a white bed, looking small amidst the crumpled sheets. Electrodes on her head attached to wires, which attached to machines. So many machines.

So many wires.

He knelt down beside her bed and took her hand.

"Alana," he whispered. "Can you hear me?"

In the background, a doctor scoffed. There was no way she could possible surface, much less hear him. There were too many sedatives in her bloodstream; it just wasn't possible. There was no way she could hear him. No way she could wake up.

Loki paid him no attention. He knew the strength of her mind. He squeezed her hand. "Alana. Wake up."

Slowly, as if emerging from deep beneath the water, Alana opened her eyes.

The doctors stood still, stunned, frozen.

"Loki?" she murmured.

"Yes, it's me," he said softly.

"Where… am I?"

"Shhh. It's okay. Everything's okay, I promise."

"Liar," she breathed, a faint smile on her face.

Loki closed his eyes briefly; he could not let her see him cry.

"No. You're right. I'm sorry, Alana, I'm so, _so_ sorry."

"What's going on, Loki? Please…" she said softly.

"Alana…"

"Tell me, Loki." Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"They're going to erase your memory," he said with sorrow in his voice, in his heart, so deep that it went through his very core, ripping him apart.

Alana sighed. "I won't… remember you?"

"No."

"Oh, Loki," she breathed, tears in her eyes now as well.

"I love you, Alana." He tightened his grip on her hand as though it would stop her memory flooding away.

He couldn't let this happen. But he was powerless to stop it.

A single tear slipped out of his eye. Alana reached up, straining against the grip the drugs held on her. She brushed away his tear. Loki turned his head to the side and kissed her palm, closing his eyes.

"Don't cry, Loki… it's not the end."

He looked at her sadly. How could she possibly believe that?

Her head sank back onto the pillows.

"Just forget me, Alana. It would be safer. Easier."

"But I can't do that," she said sadly. "I _won't_ do that."

"Then remember that I love you, and that will be enough. Remember that you won the love of the son of Laufey. Remember that you have his heart, and I will be content."

Alana took a deep breath. "Will it hurt?" she asked.

Loki looked at the doctors. They nodded.

He sighed. "Yes."

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I'm ready."

The doctors moved around, preparing the instruments.

Alana whispered, "I will always love you, Loki Laufeyson." A tear dripped out of her closed eye.

Loki kissed her forehead, gently, hating himself.

The doctors began.

It was torture.

He held her hand, and she screamed, arching her back and writhing. Loki could see on the monitors that her pain level was only rising, and wished that he were in her place. Her mind was relatively calm, though, as long as Loki held her hand and whispered to her, telling her to hold on, that he loved her, that it would be all right.

He never thought he would hate himself so much for lying.

At least an hour passed. Loki could feel her strength waning. "How much longer?" he snapped at the doctors. The main doctor looked nervous and unsure of how to respond.

"We're almost past her mental barriers. Once we break them, then it will be about ten minutes."

Loki gazed at Alana, still fighting, after all this time. Fighting to keep her memories, fighting for Loki. She was so much stronger than he was.

Alana let out one last scream and lay still, limp as a rag doll, but for her hand, which still gripped Loki's tightly.

An expression of relief broke across the main doctor's face. "Commencing mind wipe," he said, almost smugly.

Loki wanted to break his neck.

Alana's body was still, but he could see her eyes moving rapidly beneath her eyelids. Was she relieving her memories, their memories?

Her hand grew limp in Loki's, and a final tear slipped out of her eye.

"Mind wipe complete."

Loki sat there, unseeing, unfeeling. His heart was gone, taken with her memories. He was an empty shell. He did not fight when the agents came to take him away.

He went with them in silence.

* * *

**A/N: :'(**

**Thanks for the lovely responses from ScarlettO'Hara2011, Kieira, and Fantasy-Mania31.**

**Please review!**


	23. Fade Away

**TWENTY-THREE**

* * *

_I'm cold and broken _

_It's over I didn't want to see it come to this _

_I wonder if I will ever see your face again _

_And I know that I will find a way to shed my skin _

_It's simple I know that I will suffer in the end _

_Fast I fade away _

_It's almost over _

_Hold on _

_Slow I suffocate _

_I'm cold and broken _

_Alone _

_It's hopeless, the end will come and wash it all away _

_Forsaken, I live for those I lost along the way _

_And I can't remember how it all began to break _

_You suffer, I live to fight and die another day _

_\- "Fade Away," Breaking Benjamin_

* * *

Two weeks had passed since Alana had been taken from him.

Two weeks he had lain on the cot in the concrete room, numb and suffering.

Two weeks had passed, and she was about to be released from the hospital.

Coulson had told him that he was about to be moved to a different facility at the same time.

He didn't care.

He didn't care about anything but revenge anymore.

Revenge against S.H.I.E.L.D. for taking her away from him. Revenge against Thor and against Odin for sending him here in the first place.

Revenge against this entire _damn _world for not allowing their love.

He would get his revenge.

But he couldn't very well do that from inside a cell, now, could he?

So for the first time in a year, he began to plot and plan, his heart finally completely gone and only one goal in his mind.

_Escape._

* * *

Alana was feeling much better now.

She had woken up in an unfamiliar hospital, surrounded by a platoon of doctors and one extremely uncomfortable-looking man in sunglasses.

_Coulson_, she had remembered with difficulty, pulling the name forward from a haze of pain. That was his name.

He had explained to her that she had been wounded in combat and that S.H.I.E.L.D. had brought her here to heal.

When she said she couldn't remember anything from her sixteenth year or her twentieth to twenty-second, (apparently her birthday had passed while she was in the hospital) he said that she had been diagnosed with amnesia and that her memories might never come back.

As she tried to take all of that in, her memories just _gone, _vanished with a single battle, he mentioned that it was probably best that she couldn't remember how she'd been hurt, that she definitely shouldn't want to.

A female doctor with short red hair who looked slightly out of place scowled at him when he said that, her hands flexing unconsciously as if she wanted to strangle him.

Alana had stifled a giggle, thinking that they probably would have been friends if circumstances were different.

But she never saw the female doctor again, and had recuperated alone. She didn't really mind so much.

Except, one time, she had been downstairs in the lobby and heard a beautiful melody being played on the piano. She had walked towards it, trying to see who was playing, but her head ached sharply and she had instead been walking down the hallway of her house, towards a bedroom from which music was emanated. She cracked open the door, but before she could see who was playing, she found herself back in the hospital.

When she mentioned it to Coulson, he had looked like a deer in the headlights, but then a doctor passing by told her that it was probably a flashback, something that might have happened during her amnesia.

As she had walked away, she thought she heard Coulson whisper, "You weren't supposed to tell her the _truth_."

All this puzzled her, but she couldn't make sense of it all, so she pushed it to the back of her mind.

She was finally being released, after two weeks and a clean bill of health… except for the amnesia.

As she walked towards the car that S.H.I.E.L.D. had provided to take her back to her house, she felt as if someone was watching her and turned around.

There, down a slight hill, another person was being prodded into the backseat of another S.H.I.E.L.D. car. And was he… handcuffed?

She supposed she shouldn't be surprised, the hospital _was _a government one, and they probably fixed up criminals there too.

She couldn't make out his face, but something in the way he was struggling almost seemed like he was trying to run towards her.

But that was ridiculous.

So she turned and walked back up to the car, and she did not look back again.

* * *

_End of Book One_

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for 6,000 views, guys! One book down... and plenty of feels for you, I'm sure! Thanks for sticking with me! Please drop a review and tell me if I should continue, or if you hate me, or Coulson, or... you know, if you liked it. ;D**


	24. INTERLUDE

**INTERLUDE**

* * *

_They can keep me out_

_'Til I tear the walls_

_'Til I slave your hearts_

_And they take your souls_

_And what has been done_

_Cannot be undone_

_In the evil's heart_

_In the evil's soul_

_Seven devils all around you_

_Seven devils in your house_

_See I was dead when I woke up this morning_

_I'll be dead before the day is done_

_Before the day is done_

\- _"__Seven Devils," Florence + The Machine_

* * *

Natasha Romanoff had just come to see him.

He could see why Alana had been friends with her. They shared the same fire.

But she had failed to save Alana, hadn't protested when her mind was wiped, and for that she needed to die.

They would all die.

Her remark, "Love is for children, I owe him a debt," had felt very pointedly directed at him.

Well, this was his bargain. They would die, they would all die, and he would rule. He would find Alana and make her his queen, and save her memories.

His revenge would be complete.

But this idiotic cage was _slightly_ bothersome, so his minions would soon arrive to save him, among them Clint Barton. He smiled a bit at that. The man had spirit, had fought his scepter more than most, but in the end, he would die too.

When he had escaped from S.H.I.E.L.D. he had managed to conjure up a portal, all on his own, which was one of the hardest things that he had ever done. He fell through it blindly, almost wishing that he would end up in a black hole… but his thirst for revenge was too strong. He had landed among the Chitauri, had pledged himself to Thanos's cause, but in the end she was the only one that mattered.

He had thought his hatred was strong when he had arrived there, but they showed him a dark path, one that made him even stronger. And his scepter, it whispered to him, bolstering his courage and rage, his hatred, his fire, showing him the way.

He had noticed recently that his eyes had turned blue.

A different color, for a different age. An age of darkness, of cold.

He would find her. He would save her. He would kill them. He would hunt them.

They would die. He would rule. _They _would rule, together.

He had only to wait.

* * *

_With a thousand lies_

_And a good disguise_

_Hit 'em right between the eyes_

_Hit 'em right between the eyes_

_When you walk away_

_Nothing more to say_

_See the lightning in your eyes_

_See 'em running for their lives_

_\- "You're Gonna Go Far, Kid," The Offspring_

* * *

Loki pulled his scepter out of Coulson's back, smiling slightly as the man fell to the floor. Behind him, Thor roared, but he didn't care.

_I have avenged you, Alana. All the pain that he caused you, the _damage_ he did to you, to your mind… it is done. He will die._

_S.H.I.E.L.D. will burn. The _world_ will burn. And you and I will start anew. We will rule._

_No one will _ever_ take you away from me again._

* * *

_I'm gonna fight 'em off_

_A seven nation army couldn't hold me back_

_They're gonna rip it off_

_Taking their time right behind my back_

_And I'm talkin' to myself at night_

_Because I can't forget_

_Back and forth through my mind_

_Behind a cigarette_

\- _"__Seven Nation Army," The White Stripes_

* * *

"Look at this! Look around you!" Thor yelled, locked in combat with Loki on the balcony of Stark Tower. He looked, and saw the fires and the burning buildings, the rubble. "You think this madness will end with your rule?"

He snapped back into reality in that one moment. _Alana lived near New York. We went to that shop once. That one… there. Could I have… did I kill _her_, too? _And the destruction was clear to him, and he was horrified and ashamed and _oh gods what have I done?_ And it hurt, he remembered Alana more clearly, and that hurt too, the memory of her laugh and her smile and her hand in his and he recoiled.

"It's too late… it's too late to stop it," he said, trembling. What had he done? And Thor, _oh Thor, you caring fool,_ looks at him with hope, sheer hope and says, "No, we can… together."

He _feels_ again, after months of pain and hatred and he can remember her lips and her eyes, and his mind is in turmoil, but his hands burn and he hears his scepter singing out to him, showing him the hatred and the thirst, showing him his true path, and he slips back under, to the familiar embrace of the gem, and he stabs Thor in the gut, _he doesn't want me to find her, he doesn't want me to rule! He wants to take my rightful throne on Asgard, but I will find her, _we_ will rule, die, Thor, die._

"Sentiment," he breathes, leering at Thor's crumpled form.

* * *

Meanwhile, Alana was glued to her television screen.

Aliens? In New York City? Barely a hundred miles from her house? It was incredible, unbelievable.

Yes, she had been part of S.H.I.E.L.D., and yes, she trusted them to figure it out, to do the right thing, but part of her wished that she was there too, so she could help.

If only Coulson hadn't insisted she go out of action… but she understood why. Her amnesia wasn't the problem, but he told her that it would be dangerous if she had a flashback during battle.

She was not _wholly_ disappointed, however; she was a little scared. Aliens and flying ships were fantastical, mysterious… it wasn't right. She moved the dagger lying on the coffee table a little closer to her. If any of those aliens came near her house, they'd get one in the eye.

She was still jittery, however, and jumped when the coffee maker beeped.

The news anchor, who looked quite panicked herself, was standing amidst rubble, with several small fires littering the street.

"There appears to be a fight going on, right on top of Stark Tower, between Thor and the man who appeared in Germany. This man, stating that he would rule the Earth, caused mass hysteria and the deaths of at least forty people."

A blurry image appeared of a dark-haired man with – what the hell was on his head? Horns? - fighting a blond-haired man, but the video was obviously taken from a distance, and it was impossible to distinguish facial features.

She shuddered and got up to get her coffee. She only hoped that S.H.I.E.L.D. would be able to stop him.

* * *

**A/N: Woo woo! Finally! This took ages, I don't know why...**

**The first chapter of Book 2 will be up soon, I promise. Here's a little spoiler... **

_A knot formed itself in her stomach. This person… she felt as if she'd seen him before, like a friend from when she was small. His eyes went straight to her head, making it ache. Did she know him?_

**In the meantime, please leave a review!**

**(And happy holidays! :D)**


	25. Once Upon a Dream

**BOOK TWO**

_my fault_

* * *

**ONE**

* * *

_I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream_

_I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam_

_And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem_

_But if I know you, I know what you'll do_

_You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream_

_\- "Once Upon A Dream," Lana del Ray_

* * *

Alana Cooper just couldn't find the book she was looking for.

She was wandering through the halls of the New York Public Library, which was almost deserted.

Apparently there was some sort of new alien invasion going on in London, and everyone was sitting, captivated, in front of their televisions.

_Whatever,_ she thought. _It's probably going to be on _every_ television in the world for another week._

Her mission was more important.

Her first flashback had happened two weeks after she woke up in the hospital. She'd heard a person playing piano in the lobby and had remembered a different song, played on the piano, heard from afar. She'd gone to see who was playing… and there it had ended.

The next one had happened another month later. She had been lying on her roof, looking at the stars, and in her flashback she'd heard footsteps coming up behind her. Someone had lain down next to her… but the flashback ended before she could see whom it was.

She was absolutely, positively fed up with her amnesia.

Which is why she was at the library, looking for a word, one word. One word that she could remember from the missing years of her life. One word that had pushed its way through the barriers between her memories.

_Loki_.

She wasn't sure if it was a place, a person, or a thing. The memory had been vague, with white sheets and something beeping, the word like a whisper, a thought, accompanied with a fierce sense of determination and a pang of sadness.

When she had searched the word in the database, the library had popped up with all sorts of books on Norse Mythology, call number 292. She was having a bit of trouble finding the mythology section, however. The library was like a maze. She had thought she was getting to the two hundreds when it suddenly turned into the five hundreds.

She kept walking, and then suddenly doubled back, having spotted a book with a call number 292 stuffed away in the middle of the sciences.

She never reached it.

The air warped and bent around her and she found herself in another, different, library.

"Whoa," she said. What had just happened, exactly?

This library was much more majestic, with ornate woodwork and heavy leather-bound books clasped with tarnished metal buckles. Balls of light floated under the vaulted ceiling. She looked around in wonder.

A painting caught her eye down a corridor of bookshelves. She hurried down and gazed at a huge picture framed with gold. In it, lightning surrounded a stern looking white-bearded man with an eye patch and a blond haired guy holding a hammer, who looked as if he was on steroids. Storm clouds filled the sky behind them. The painting was larger than life.

Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw another painting. It was tucked away in an alcove, seemingly forgotten. This one was much smaller, framed in bronze. She walked carefully towards it, feeling tense – but why, she had no idea.

A pale man with long, dark hair was looking over his shoulder at her. The painting was grimy – a contrast to the gleaming one of the two men that was obviously polished frequently. His eyes were a startling shade of green, a mischievous smile on his face.

A knot formed itself in her stomach. This person… she felt as if she'd seen him before, like a friend from when she was small. His eyes went straight to her head, making it ache. Did she know him?

She reached out to touch the face in the painting, but before the tips of her fingers could brush the canvas, a smooth voice rang out, saying, "You're not supposed to touch the paintings."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, whirling around, startled. "I didn't know…"

Her voice trailed off as she took in the man before her. He was tall and lithe, dressed in dark leather and green and gold, with dark hair.

She looked back at the painting. "It's your painting! Sorry, I didn't mean anything."

The man recoiled as if he'd just been punched. His eyes were wide and his face had drained of what little color it had.

"You…" he breathed. "How…"

"I didn't mean to trespass or anything," Alana cut in quickly. "I was in the New York Library trying to find a book that would help me, and then I ended up here somehow, but I don't know where _here _is, and – "

She stopped her rapid-fire explanation and looked curiously at the man, who was still frozen and looking as if he was about to go into shock. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

The man inhaled sharply, looking as if he was trying to make up his mind about something. He said, "No."

"I don't mean to be rude, it's just that you look really familiar and – _ow._"

Images rushed into her mind, accompanied by a searing pain as the man vanished from her vision. _Not another flashback,_ she thought, _not here! Not now!_

_A pale hand, outstretched, reaching for hers, a voice crying her name. "Loki!" she shouts. People were trying to restrain her, but she _had_ to get to him, she had to – and then a sharp pain in the back of her neck makes her dizzy, and she hears a voice screaming "No!" -_

The images disappeared and she collapsed, feeling as if she'd been run over by a truck. In a flash, the man had caught her in his arms and carried her to a nearby bench covered with velvet.

"Sorry about that," she said weakly. Then, to herself, "So it _is_ a name..."

"What is a name?" the man asked cautiously. After he had placed her on the bench he had quickly stepped back, studying her face intently, his intense eyes fixed on hers. "And… what are you wearing?"

Alana looked down at herself in surprise. Somehow, she was wearing a floor-length dress with a full, green velvet skirt, with a bodice of black leather and gold. She reached up and felt her head; a slender circlet of gold sat there, curving gradually into a V on her forehead. It was undoubtedly the finest dress she had ever worn. And the strangest.

"I have absolutely no idea. Trust me, I wasn't wearing this when I stepped through that _thing.._. whatever it was."

"And the name?" the man said.

"Well…" Alana sat up, feeling unsure how to respond, "the thing is, I used to work in a… government position and I was injured in combat. I got amnesia, and now I can't remember a lot of my past. But I can remember this one word – well, I guess it's a name, really."

The man's eyes glimmered. "What is it?" he asked softly.

"Um, Loki."

Saying the name out loud for the first time brought a rush of emotions to Alana: pain and anger and fear and… love?

"Say it again," the man said quietly. "Please?" he added.

"Loki," she said hesitantly, feeling the strangeness of the name on her lips, and then more confidently, "I need to find Loki."

The man smiled, an expression of pure, perfect joy on his face.

"Who are you?" she asked. "I'm Alana."

"Er, I'm… Lucas."

"Nice to meet you. Now, could you tell me where the hell I am?"

The smile slipped off his face. "They cannot find you here," he said urgently. "You must stay here until all the commotion is over."

"Commotion?" Alana asked. "What commotion? Where am I?"

"Follow me," Lucas said.

* * *

**A/N: ****Together again. :)**

**Please leave a review! (And thanks for 8,000+ views! Wow!)**


	26. Dark Side

**TWO**

* * *

_Or will you stay_

_Even if it hurts_

_Even if I try to push you out_

_Will you return?_

_And remind me who I really am_

_Please remind me who I really am_

_Everybody's got a dark side_

_Do you love me?_

_Can you love mine?_

_Nobody's picture perfect_

_But we're worth it_

_You know that we're worth it_

_Will you love me?_

_Even with my dark side?_

_\- "Dark Side," Kelly Clarkson_

* * *

Life was interesting, Loki reflected as he led Alana through the maze of corridors. Just when he had thought that he was prepared to do anything, she appeared, and the memories that he had tried to suppress had come rushing back like a flood.

_I will always bring you back to the light, _she had said. What would she think of him now? Of his darkness, his fury and rage? He had not expected this; thought he had conquered the pain, tempered it with rage and fire. When he had watched Alana walk away from the hospital he had never really thought that he would see her again. He had resigned himself to his hatred, his dark future, his imprisonment. Faking his death, preparing to kill Odin… but then she had _appeared,_ and the pain of her loss had hit him hard. He wanted to rush to her, to take her in his arms and hold her tight, and to never, never, _never_ let her go again.

But he could not.

She did not know him.

But she remembered his name. She hadn't forgotten him completely. And he could try, now that she was here, he could try to get her memory back.

He had been prepared to slay the Allfather, but her presence had diminished him, had made him remember how he used to be, how she had told him that he was not a monster. How she had loved him, and saved him, and kissed him late at night.

He was unsure.

He had faked his death, lied to everyone he knew, and hurt so many people because he himself was broken. Alana had been stolen, and Frigga was dead. _Mother… I killed you._

But now he felt tinges of guilt, of regret, creeping up on him for things he had not regretted. Coulson's death, and New York, and the way Thanos and the Chitauri had turned him into a mindless weapon with only minimal effort. He had been so _angry_… Was this what Alana would have wanted for him? Would she love him as he was now, broken and dark?

He tried to convince himself that he had done it for _her_, so that he could find _her_, but his argument was feeble in his mind.

He was intrigued, as well. Her appearance on Asgard, in the room where he was, at the exact time he had been there, was more than a coincidence.

And her attire was Asgardian as well. In fact, it looked like _his_.

He had to look into it.

At the same time, he could not allow her to wander the palace. If Odin found her, who knew what would happen?

And Thor… he'd have to do something about Thor…

As he led Alana down the aisles of the library, she stopped him abruptly, saying, "Wait."

He turned back to look at her with reluctance, not sure if his face could hold its impassive mask, not sure if he could refrain from kissing her.

She crossed her arms. "I'm not going _anywhere_ else until you tell me where I am and why I can't get back home."

Of course. He hadn't forgotten her stubborn streak, her resolve that he had loved.

"You are on Asgard," he said, watching her carefully for a flicker of recognition. But none came.

"And… where is that?"

"Several thousand light-years away from Earth."

Her jaw dropped and she looked at him warily. "You're an alien?"

He raised his eyebrows. "I suppose."

She broke into a wide grin, her eyes dancing with delight. "That's so cool!" Loki felt a pang in his heart, remembering the night he revealed his Jotunn form to her. Then a suspicious look flared across her face and she asked, "You're not one of those creepy ones from New York?"

_Oh, no. _"Of course not. Do I look a savage beast?" he said lightly.

"Well, that's a bit of an overstatement… I'm sure they had a _reason_. And I suppose that they aren't considered ugly in their world. But they seemed more like foot soldiers… they must have had a commander. That guy fighting Thor, maybe." He looked at her, concealing the terror he was feeling in his heart. _Damn, damn, damn, what have I done? _He relaxed marginally as she said, "But that's over with, so whatever, I guess." She peered at him closely. "_You_ don't seem like a psychopath."

_If she only knew…_

"So how did I get here?"

"The Seven Realms are converging," he said. "Their alignment causes portals to open sometimes, from world to world. You must have walked through one."

She didn't look as fazed as she should have. Perhaps… perhaps _some_ memory had come back to her?

"And why are you helping me, exactly?" she asked, looking a bit suspicious, and his hope died. "You said that you didn't know me."

_Why does she have to be so perceptive? Even without her telepathy… damn. This is going to be harder than I thought._

"I don't," he said smoothly, erasing all doubt and hesitation from his voice. "However, in my current situation it would be bad to have a human running amok in the palace."

"Your current situation? Which would be… wait. I'm in a _palace_?"

He nodded and her jaw dropped again. "So let me get this straight. I walked through a _portal _and ended up on an alien planet, in an alien palace, _with_ an alien who just so happens to want to help me?"

"That would… be correct, yes."

"Well," she said, laughing a little, "just another day at the…" Her voice trailed off, her eyes became unfocused. Loki looked cautiously at her.

"At… the office," she finally finished, snapping back into reality. "And what is your current situation?"

_Should I lie? _The lies were familiar and came easily, but he wanted her to know _some_ portion of the truth…

He hesitated, then said, "I faked my death." The words were blunt. "And now I have to hide."

She looked a little surprised. "Fake your death? Why… why would you do something like that?"

He sighed, then reluctantly said, "Because the king would have imprisoned me if I had returned alive."

Alana took a step back from him, eyes widening. Thoughts ran through his head, wildly, unformed, speculative. Would she run?

"Why?" she asked, her voice cautiously controlled. "What did you do?"

"I… it's complicated." He turned away from her, turned away from the look in her eyes. "But what I did, I meant… I never thought…" He broke off, unable to continue, but also unable to bear the silence. "I swear that I did it for y – for love."

A hesitant hand touched his shoulder, and he wanted to flee. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Did you love her very much?"

"More than life," he whispered.

She sighed and removed her hand. He waited for more questions, for more arguments.

None came.

"Well," she finally said, "lead on. I guess I'm your accomplice now, so it'd be good not to get caught."

He led her to a room that his mother – _Frigga, remember, just Frigga_, his mind told him, but his heart had been bolstered by her arrival and he doesn't care –had showed him when he was younger, only about five hundred or so. He used to hate it when his parents – _not his parents_ – argued, and Frigga had showed him the room in which she slept after such arguments. Being married to Odin and with a lifespan of five thousand years each, the two gods had sometimes needed some time apart.

The room, now unused, was neat and tidy but had an unmistakable air of abandonment.

"You may stay here," he said, and turned, convincing himself that he was ready to leave, that he _wanted_ to leave, but she let out a noise of indignation and said, "I don't think so. You can tell me you're an alien, that I walked through a portal, and that you're a _fugitive_, but no way are you leaving me here."

"I have to take care of something," he said, back still to her.

"Something, or someone?" she said in a voice full of disapproval. "Why can't you just be honest?"

_Because I do not know how anymore. _"I have to make sure that we will be safe here."

"Hey," she said, and grabbed his arm. "No killing. Okay? Because I can see that you've done a lot of things that _most _people would be ashamed of. But not anymore. Not while I'm around."

He spun, grasping her upper arms tightly and stared into her eyes. "Could you stop me?" he said, soft as a whisper, deadly as a viper. "Are you not scared?"

"Yes," she said, "and no. I am not scared of you." But the look in her eyes told him otherwise, the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her.

He released her, hating himself, and strode out of the room.

"I don't think she would have wanted you to kill for her," she said as he left.

He closed his eyes briefly, then continued on his way.

* * *

"Thank you, Father."

Thor turned and left the throne room, and Loki slowly let the illusion fade away.

"No. Thank you." He smiled, relishing the feeling of the throne under him and Gungnir in his hand. He stayed for a minute or two longer there, until he remembered her, still sitting in the library, and he reluctantly placed Gungnir back where Odin had hid it, and left.

He had to find out how to get her memory back. And where better to go than to where she was?

But first, he had to make arrangements to protect her while he was not there.

* * *

It was midnight, and Loki knelt in the main part of Frigga's private chambers. Alana was sleeping in the next room.

The molten gold, floating in the air, shone faintly, soft and waiting for him. He let his Jotunn blue creep up his hand, then pressed his thumb into the gold.

There was no pain, only a faint warmth, but he wished that it hurt, so he could hurt for her.

He removed his thumb and the metal was cool, solid, and hard. It dropped from the air and into his waiting palm. The whorls of his fingerprint were imbedded in the charm. He threaded a golden chain through a small hole he had made, then began to use his magic.

He cast protection spells, danger spells, warning spells. He worked until the sun began to rise and the light shone through the windows. It would be _perfect_, it would protect her, she would know when he was near, when she was safe.

If he could not protect her… no. He wouldn't think of that. He would not endanger her again; she would be safe with him.

He was sure of it.

* * *

Alana woke up and didn't know where she was for a moment. But when she realized what she was wearing, she immediately sat up.

So it had not been a dream. She was really in a palace. An _alien _palace, no less. And Lucas… had he left again?

She didn't know what to think about him, his silence, his intensity. He scared her, in a way, and he made her head hurt constantly, a faint but persistent ache. But his anguish had seemed genuine, over his lost love... the one he had killed for.

She could read it in his face; he was broken. _He's a murderer,_ her mind told her persistently. _You can read it in his eyes. _But he needed someone, that was obvious, but who was she to presume that she could help him in any way? He was an alien, she was just a girl out of place.

_I suppose _I'm_ the alien to him,_ she thought absentmindedly. But he was the only person she had here, and she had decided to trust him.

A memory came to her, Coulson shaking his head during her training, whispering to another agent, _"She's too trusting. Surprising, actually, considering what she's been through." _

What had she been through?

And maybe she was too trusting, but so what? She was fine, for the moment. And she still had a strange feeling about Lucas…

She rolled out of the bed and walked over to a small window set in the stone walls and gasped in surprise and awe.

The full splendor of a golden city loomed before her, a bridge made of glass and light heading out to a point in the sea. The sun was rising steadily, and the sky was streaked with color.

There was a knock on the door, and Lucas cautiously stuck his head inside.

"It's beautiful," she breathed. She could hear his low chuckle behind her. "I suppose it does take some getting used to," he admitted.

She stood transfixed for another minute, then snapped out of her reverie and turned to him.

"I have something for you," he said, sitting down on the floor and gesturing for her to do the same.

She sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him. "Hold out your hands," he said softly. She cupped her hands in front of her, and he poured a necklace into them, the golden chain glimmering faintly in the light.

"It's cold!" she exclaimed, "Really cold!" She examined the charm more closely. "Is this… a fingerprint?"

"Yes," he replied, "mine. Now, pay attention. This will protect you, so wear it at all times."

She fastened the chain around her neck, still studying the charm. He continued, "The necklace is cold. Cold means safe. If it ever grows warm, it means that you're in danger. If I'm with you, it probably won't grow warm, but if it does, tell me. If I'm not there, _hide._"

"Cold means safe. Warm means danger. Got it."

"No, Alana." He grabbed her wrist before she could stand up. "You _have to hide_. Promise me. If Odin finds me, you have to stay safe."

"I'll be fine. I _did_ work for S.H.I.E.L.D., you know. Just 'cause I have amnesia doesn't mean I can't fight."

"Not this. You can't fight this. _Please_."

She looked at him, startled. "All right, all right. I promise."

He was suddenly, instantly aware of the warmth of her skin, of her pulse flickering under her skin, the life running through her veins. So warm, so full of… everything, life and hope and pain and all the things that made her human.

All the things that made her who he loved.

She was looking at him a little oddly, seeing as his hand was still on her wrist, so he released her.

He needed her so badly it was like a physical need, pulling him towards her. Just to hold her, to stroke her hair, to gaze into her eyes… why had he not realized how wealthy he was before? When he had her, the world was a dream.

And he had not known their futures.

But he would save her memory. He would. He swore it to himself.

_Today,_ he thought,_ will be the day I save her._

* * *

**A/N: Happy New Year! And let me say that I am so grateful to all of you who are crazy enough to stay with me and my crazy story... to all you who have reviewed and favorited and followed. This story was just written for me in the first place, I never intended to put in on here, but I'm so glad that I did, if only to give you some feels. ('Cause there weren't _enough_ canon Loki feels already...) But really, you guys are the best. Srsly. ;) **


	27. Cosmic Love

**THREE**

* * *

_A falling star fell from your heart and landed in my eyes_

_I screamed aloud as it tore through them, and now it's left me blind_

_The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out_

_You left me in the dark_

_No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight_

_In the shadow of your heart_

_And in the dark, I can hear your heartbeat_

_I tried to find the sound_

_But then it stopped, and I was in the darkness,_

_So darkness I became_

\- _"__Cosmic Love," Florence + The Machine_

* * *

Alana was dreaming.

Her dream was dark but felt completely real; lips on hers, soft and smooth, a hand in her hair, pulling her closer, a hand cupping her face, cool fingers stroking her cheek.

The small part of her mind that was aware that she was dreaming scoffed, telling her that there was _no way_ she had ever been kissed like that, _ever_. It obviously had to be a dream.

But the dream still surrounded her, and – why was it so dark? Oh, her eyes were closed, that's why. She returned the kiss fiercely, not wanting to let it end, letting it sweep her away…

And then the phone rang. She opened her eyes and found Lucas smiling mischievously at her, inches from her face.

She gasped and sat bolt upright in her bed, fully awake.

She ran a hand through her hair. What the _hell?_

She wasn't the type of woman to lust after men she had just met. She had never had a lasting romantic relationship that she could remember. So why was she dreaming about kissing an _alien_ after only knowing him for two days?

And he was in love with someone else. She felt disappointed, then angry with herself for _being_ disappointed. She had just met him! He was an _alien_!

But there was something in his eyes that made her hurt, made her feel like she was constantly about to pass out, to faint.

He was handsome, she thought. Maybe not the stereotypical girl's dream, but she liked his sea-green eyes and dark hair. His intensity scared her, but she could not turn away.

She shook off her feelings and got out of her bed.

A small book lay by the window, bound in leather, tooled in silver. Beside it lay a small box, which she opened to find full of pencils, all different shades. She let out a small sigh as her fingers brushed over them. She loved to draw, had loved it since she was a small child, and had become quite proficient over the years. She opened the book and a small note slipped out.

_To give you something to do while I'm away._

_\- L_

She smiled a bit. He couldn't have possibly known that she liked drawing, but the gesture was thoughtful and she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

She opened to a blank page and began to sketch the city of Asgard.

* * *

Loki was not having a good day.

He was scouring the royal library for books on memory loss, but to no avail. He had eventually been forced to take the guise of an old man and gone to ask the person who kept the library for help, an older woman he had known since he was a child.

When she told him that all the books on memory loss were kept in the private section of the library, he let out a small noise of exasperation. "And I suppose I couldn't get into the private section," he harrumphed creakily. "Unfortunately, sir. I apologize, but the Allfather does like his private stores."

He scowled and left, turning a corner as an old man and in a flash of light, he was himself again. He shook his fingers out. He hated being old, even acting it.

_You are old,_ a voice whispered inside him. _You are a thousand years older than her._

He shook it off and headed for the Allfather's private library.

A quick illusion of Odin and the doors opened, revealing the books that Odin thought too dangerous or too important for the lords and ladies of Asgard to see.

He began to comb the shelves, pulling out several thick tomes that seemed helpful and letting them float in an ever-increasing stack behind him.

After he was done, he had probably a hundred books floating behind him. He sighed and prepared for some heavy reading.

_This day just keeps getting better._

* * *

When Loki returned after sunset, he found Alana fast asleep on the floor next to the window. The pencils he had given her were scattered around, the book open to a sketch, in great detail, of the view out of the window.

He smiled and moved a lock of hair out of her eyes, fingers lightly grazing her cheek. She mumbled a little bit in her sleep.

He knelt there for a long time beside her, watching her sleep, peaceful and content, and for a moment he could almost pretend that they were back at her house, in those good old days.

But instead he sighed and pulled a blanket off of the bed, covering her. He still had a lot of reading to do.

* * *

Alana woke up once in the middle of the night. Her cheek was smushed against the carpet. She yawned and sat up; a blanket fell off of her.

Lucas must have put it on her. She flushed a little, imagining him seeing her passed out on the floor.

A candle's light guttered in the next room, so she wrapped the blanket around her and went to take a look.

Lucas was sprawled out on the floor, piles and piles of thick leather books surrounding him. A floating image of a brain hovered nearby, and he was muttering words under his breath every so often, as he found something that looked promising. Flashes of green light surrounded the brain as he spoke. Most of them did nothing to the brain, on which a bright red section was marked. He tossed that book aside and reached for another.

This time, when he spoke and the green light appeared, the brain exploded.

He swore loudly and threw the book aside, standing up in one fluid motion, hands clenched in tight balls at his sides. He saw her in the doorway and froze.

"Sorry," she said quietly. "I just wanted to say thanks. For this." She held up a corner of the blanket.

A small smile twitched its way across his face. "You're welcome."

She turned to leave, but he said, "I saw your drawing. It was impressive."

She smiled, her back to him. "Thank you."

"Are you going back to sleep?" he asked. "If you aren't, I have something to show you."

He had picked up a book, ornate, majestic. She decided that she wasn't so tired after all and sat down next to him.

He opened it, and the swirling colors and gilt letters entranced her. "Oh," she whispered, and touched the face of a particularly fierce looking creature.

"These are some of the species in the universe," he whispered. "Would… would you like me to teach you about them?"

She flipped to another page, still in awe. "Are you kidding me? Of course!"

And so as the night waned on, he spoke to her of the Dark Elves and the Light Elves, the Vanir and the Jotunns and the Aesir. She paused him only once, to go and grab her sketchbook, where she drew feverishly, drinking in his words, his vivid descriptions of all the beings in the Nine Realms.

He began to speak about the Jotunns, and she immediately grabbed a blue pencil.

"Blue?" he asked questioningly. She looked a little confused. "Didn't you say that they were blue?" she said.

"No."

"Are they?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Well, then," she said, and was about to begin drawing when he reached for her hand. "Alana…" He hesitated, not sure what he wanted to say. _I haven't been telling you the truth. I am Loki, and the one who I fell in love with was you, and please, please don't leave, you can't remember me, but your memory was wiped…_

But what came out of his mouth was quite different. "Will you draw me as a Jotunn?"

She smiled a little, puzzled. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Curiosity."

_Do you remember me?_

_Please remember something of me._

_Please._


	28. Sally's Song

**FOUR**

* * *

_I sense there's something in the wind_

_That feels like tragedy's at hand_

_And though I'd like to stand by him_

_Can't shake this feeling that I have_

_The worst is just around the bend_

_\- "Sally's Song," Catherine O'Hara_

* * *

A month or two had passed since Thor had left Asgard. He had only been back one time since then. But he was content with his new life, with Jane, without the burdens of princehood and memories of his childhood… memories now marred by his knowledge of the future.

But now, he had returned to Asgard once more. He fully intended to leave right after he had found what he was looking for… but Fate had other plans.

* * *

Thor strode into the library, looking for a book. It was much harder than he had thought. Asgard's royal library was full of twists and turns, nooks and crannies. But, whenever he had wanted a book in the past, Loki would go with him, rolling his eyes all the way. _My, brother,_ he'd say,_ I think you're getting slow. Well, slower. You can't even find a book without help!_

Thor smiled wistfully. Those were the days. Carefree and innocent, unaware of their futures… of Loki's future.

He rounded a corner, then another, searching for the astronomy sections. Jane's birthday was approaching, and he had wanted to get her an Asgardian book.

He rounded another corner and stumbled upon the painting of himself and Odin. He winced. He did not much like that painting, and remembered only to well the bore of sitting for it, but liked even less that Loki had been excluded from it.

He could still remember Odin saying, _Loki, it is a great honor to have a sole portrait! _And Loki had said nothing, but the look in his eyes told Thor that he knew the truth.

Thor was suddenly filled with a longing to see his brothers' face again. To have him die, not once, but _twice_ when Thor could have saved him stung deeply. But he had died with honor, in the end. He had avenged Frigga. And he had died in his arms…

He strode down the hall, and quickly saw his brother's portrait. It had not been cleaned recently, and he felt another pang. _Forgotten, unloved… my poor brother. _Loki's green eyes glimmered with mischief, but Thor could see behind them now to the loneliness and pain.

Lost in thought, he jumped a bit as he heard a muffled _thump_ coming from a few aisles over. Was it the Dark Elves? Had they infiltrated the palace again? Ready to fight, he grasped Mjolnir and went to investigate.

Yet when he reached the aisle, he saw not a Dark Elf, but a young girl, garbed in Asgardian green and black. She had fallen to the floor

He immediately rushed to her side, attempting to wake her, but failing. Her pulse was rapid, but her face was pale.

Once again he wished that Loki were there, but for a far different reason. He had been far more skillful at healing magic than he had let on.

What to do?

He made up his mind that he would take her to the healers.

He had never seen her before, which was strange. He thought that he knew all those with access to Asgard's library.

Then again, he had been away for a while, and it had been even longer since he had been in the library.

He gathered her up in his arms and made for the infirmary.

* * *

"This woman is a Midgardian, my lord."

"What?" Thor was completely bewildered. How could a Midgardian woman have come to be in Asgard's library?

"It is puzzling that she is dressed in Asgardian silk."

"Indeed," Odin said loudly, striding into the room. "Thor." He inclined his head to his son.

"Father," Thor began, "I - "

"Another day, another Midgardian woman on my healing table. What is wrong with _this_ one? Does she herald another end of days?"

"I do not know, Father."

"She has not yet awakened, Your Grace," the healer said. "Her mind is walled, and she is trapped inside."

She moved her hands, and a map appeared, filled with mountains and valleys and plains.

"This is a map of her mind."

She waved her hands again, and the map zoomed into a view of a huge wall, taller than any on Asgard.

"She is trapped inside of here. None of us know what to make of it. It is not a wall naturally built. It is true that people sometimes block out memories, but the only explanation for a wall of this size is that she has lost her memory and is trapped inside the place where the lost memory is stored."

On the table, the girl turned her head to the side, moaning softly. Her hand clenched into a fist.

"Is there nothing we can do?" Thor asked. She reminded him of Jane, a little.

"I do not want her here." Odin said bluntly. "She must leave."

"Father – "

"No. Take her away. Let your mortal doctor tend to her."

"Jane is not that kind of a doctor, Father."

"Just take her away."

The Allfather turned to walk away, but Thor said, "Father, may I speak to you in private?"

Odin sighed, then said, "Leave us." The healers curtsied and left.

"Father, _how_ did she get in? I found her in the library. How could a Midgardian get in, get onto Asgard, no less?"

Odin scowled. "Have you seen her clothing?"

Thor nodded, unsure where the conversation was going.

"Whose do they remind you of?"

Thor turned to the girl, studying the green velvet, the black leather, and the small circlet of gold in her hair.

"If I had to guess, Father, I would say… well, Loki's, I suppose. But why –"

"How else could a Midgardian get in? Who else knew the passages out of Asgard? And who else would take a Midgardian slave?"

"Father, I saw him die. Loki cannot possibly be alive. And he would _never_ take a slave, you know that as well as I."

"Loki is a master of illusions. And do we really know Loki anymore, Thor? He has changed, you of all people know this best of all."

"But - "

"And do you remember when you first returned to Asgard? You claimed that I had given you my blessing to start a life on Midgard. Yet I was not on Asgard that day. Who, then, was pretending to be me?"

He turned to the girl. "And then, there is this."

He waved his hand and a necklace pulled itself from under her bodice and settled on her chest.

"Pick it up."

"Father - "

"Pick it _up._"

Thor reluctantly picked up the charm and almost immediately dropped it. It was burning hot.

"Now touch it to her skin."

"But Father, it will burn her."

"Will it?"

Curious, but hesitant, Thor touched it to the pale inner skin of her arm. Nothing happened. He touched her skin, but it was only slightly warm.

"How can this be?"

"Magic. Powerful magic. I sensed it as soon as I entered the room. This is a type of magic that I have not seen since Frigga passed."

Thor's heart leapt despite of himself. "You truly believe he has returned?"

"Yes. And this time, I do not mean to let him escape."

"Father, he _did_ slay the Kursed. Without him, Jane and I would not be alive. He avenged Mother's death when I could not."

"Be that as it may, he still must serve his time."

"Father, if you _do_ believe that this girl has ties to Loki, then would it not be more prudent to keep her here? Would he not eventually return for her?"

Odin pondered this question, and then said, "If he cares at all for this… mortal woman, then he will return for her within a day. If he has not arrived by then, take her back to Midgard."

"Yes, Father."

Odin left, muttering something about princes and Midgardians. Thor sighed. It seemed as though Jane would have to wait for her present.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for 10,000 views, guys! Wow! You must all be crazy to stick with me this far. :D**


	29. Lies

**FIVE**

* * *

_Lies, don't wanna know, don't wanna know oh_

_I can't let you go, can't let you go oh_

_I just want it to be perfect_

_To believe it's all been worth the fight_

_Lies, don't wanna know, don't wanna know oh_

\- _"__Lies," Marina &amp; The Diamonds_

* * *

A day had passed, and there was no sign of Loki. Neither had the girl awakened. Thor, heeding his father's words, gathered the limp girl up in his arms and carried her out to Heimdall and the Bifrost.

Heimdall's face, to some, might have looked impassive, but Thor could tell that he was intrigued as he surveyed the girl. "I cannot see her," he said.

"You could not see Loki either, when he had fallen to the Chitauri." He sighed. "Heimdall… can you see him now?"

Heimdall's golden eyes looked through him, unfathomable. "You know that I cannot see those either in Hel or Valhalla."

"But what if he is alive?"

Heimdall turned, looking out of the huge sky window, his eyes on something distant. "I cannot see him. If he is alive, Thor… then he has found a way to hide himself."

He looked back at the girl, who still lay limp in Thor's arms. "Like her."

There was silence until Heimdall asked, "You wish to go back to Midgard?"

"Yes. To Jane."

"Very well." He inserted his sword, and the Bifrost rumbled to life. A blaze of color surrounded Thor and he was transported to the balcony outside Jane's flat.

Jane, seeing the light of the Bifrost, ran to the door, opening it and then stopping short as she noticed the girl in Thor's arms. "Who's she?" she asked.

"A Midgardian. I found her in Asgard's library… though why she was there, I cannot say."

"Is she hurt?"

"No, the healers say that she is healthy, but that she is trapped inside her own mind. They say she will eventually awaken."

"Thor, you should have taken her to S.H.I.E.L.D. I'm not a doctor, I can't help her."

"But you can care for her in a way they cannot, Jane. Please."

Jane sighed, tucking a windblown strand of hair behind her ear. "You'd better bring her in."

Thor carried her inside, laying her on the sofa. Jane had grabbed a blanket and covered her with it.

"So, let me get this straight. You found this girl in the library, unconscious, and took her to the healers, but they said she's human, and she's comatose?" Jane questioned.

Thor nodded. "Father thinks that she may have some connection with Loki."

Jane furrowed her brow. "But… isn't he dead?"

Thor sighed, running his hand through his hair. "He _has_ fooled me before."

Jane wasn't sure what to think. Admittedly, she had been a little jealous when Thor had showed up with this girl, but now she was worried about him. If Loki was really still alive, she wasn't sure how he would handle it.

If he came back, she was going to slap him even harder.

* * *

It was about a day later when Alana woke up.

Her vision was blurry, and she didn't know where she was.

"What…" she mumbled, trying to clear her mind, "where am I?"

She saw a white ceiling, and then a huge bearded face stuck itself into her line of sight, making her flinch.

"Are you awake?" it boomed.

"Yes?" she asked, her voice a little stronger.

"Jane!" the man yelled. "Come quickly!"

Alana sat up, pressing her palms to her temples. _Ow. _Her head was pounding, throbbing. The last thing she could remember was reaching for a book atop a library ladder….Where was she now? Where was Lucas?

She slowly grew aware of her necklace, the metal hot against her skin. _Danger._

She reached for it, feeling its warmth on her palm. Who were these people? What was going _on_?

A brunette woman hurried into the room, saying, "You're awake!" This, presumably, was Jane.

"Where am I?" Alana asked, warily. Her necklace was hot and she wasn't where she had been. _Danger. _Who were these people? Where was Lucas? Had they taken her somewhere else?

"London," Jane said.

London? How had she gotten there? Hadn't Lucas said it was dangerous to bring her back?

"How did I get here?"

The blond haired man cleared his throat and said, "I found you in Asgard's library, asleep. I took you to the healers and they said you were fighting a mighty battle in your mind. Father told me to bring you back to Midgard if my brother Loki did not return for you within a day."

All the color drained from Alana's face. "You… you know Loki? He's your brother?"

Now it was Thor's turn to furrow his brow. "Do you not know him?"

Alana sat up straighter, excited. "Do you know if I can meet him?"

Thor cleared his throat. "My brother… is dead."

What? "No…" Alana whispered, drawing her knees up against her chest. Her last hope of regaining her memory had gone, the only hope she had had left… Whoever Loki was, her story had died with him.

Jane sat next to her and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you tell us your story from the beginning?" she asked, attempting to clear up the confusion.

_Danger,_ her necklace warned. Lucas had told her to hide… but she was back on Earth now, and he was presumably still on Asgard. Her heart panged a little, but she shoved her feelings aside. These people _knew_ Loki. If she told them… maybe they could help her.

_She's too trusting,_ Coulson whispered inside her head. _Shut up_, she thought. _So what if I am?_

Alana took a deep breath, and said, "My name is Alana Cooper, and I used to work in a government position, um, for a unit called S.H.I.E.L.D."

Jane gasped and Thor looked at her strangely.

"Um, do you know them?"

"Yes," Thor replied. "I am Thor."

Alana sat up straight, saying, "You're Thor? I… do I know you?"

He shook his head, saying, "I do not believe that I have ever met you before."

"Well… I have amnesia from, uh, fighting in combat with S.H.I.E.L.D., but…. There was something about New Mexico that I worked on. And you, I think. But I can't remember…"

Jane looked at Thor, exchanging a silent conversation. "Tell us about your amnesia."

"I can't remember anything from the year when I was sixteen years old. Also, everything after my twentieth birthday up until my twenty-second, which is when I woke up." At their looks of surprise, she grinned a little. "Yeah, I know… it's very specific. I feel like I should know a lot about Asgard, too. Lucas was teaching me more when – well. I guess not anymore."

"And how does my brother relate to your amnesia?" Thor questioned, his voice rumbling.

"Well… the word _Loki_ is one of the only things I can remember from that period. I have these flashbacks sometimes, but I can't… they don't make sense."

Jane looked thoughtful, then asked Alana, "Who's Lucas?"

Alana smiled involuntarily, then said, "He was the first person to find me on Asgard. He was, uh, teaching me about it and… the worlds, I guess, until I could come back here."

"Did he say why you couldn't come back?"

"He said that he couldn't get me out because it was dangerous for him and me, if someone called Odin found me."

Thor looked at her in astonishment and was about to burst out with a retort, but Jane silenced him with a look and asked Alana, "Could you draw a picture of him, or describe him, or something?"

"Actually," Alana said, pulling out a small, leather-bound sketchbook from a pocket in her skirt, "I have one in here I drew of him as a Jotunn." She smiled. "He was teaching me about the different species in the galaxy, and I was drawing each of them. But he asked me to draw him as a Jotunn, instead of just a random one. I don't know why."

She rifled through the pages, ignoring Jane and Thor's significant glances at one another, stopping at a small picture. She held it out to Thor.

Thor stared at the sketch. Though small, it was a perfect representation of Loki's face, his high cheekbones and laughing eyes. Those eyes were not emerald green, though, but blood red, and his skin frost blue.

He traced the lines with his forefinger, then held it out to Jane.

She gasped. "But that's… that's…"

Alana looked at her inquisitively. "Do you know him?"

Jane stammered, at a complete loss for words.

Thor gazed at Alana curiously and said, "This is my brother, Loki."

* * *

**A/N: Please review!**


	30. Shake It Out

**SIX**

* * *

_And I've been a fool and I've been blind_

_I can never leave the past behind_

_I can see no way, I can see no way_

_I'm always dragging that horse around_

_Our love is pastured, such a mournful sound_

_Tonight I'm gonna bury that horse in the ground_

_So I like to keep my issues drawn_

_But it's always darkest before the dawn_

_\- "Shake It Out," Florence + The Machine_

* * *

Loki landed gracefully but silently next to a pine tree.

He had been terrified that Odin would find Alana_. _And then, a month or so passed, and he had gotten complacent, had left her alone in the library for too long.

And so he had lost her, _again,_ and had panicked, disguising himself as a healer and listening in on Thor and Odin's conversation.

Odin had thought she was his _slave._

Odin had clearly wanted to catch him, and so Loki had not stolen her away, and so had waited, but the sight of her in pain had hurt him badly, and Thor had left with her, so he had waited, waited for her to return back to her home.

And then his idiotic oaf of a brother had brought her to _London,_ and so he had had to wait even longer to see her. After so many years apart, he was not too patient now.

So he had waited, pacing up and down the library, hiding and cursing himself, until she had flown back to her own house, the house that he knew so well. He had landed past the gate, in her woods, but he still had to get into the house.

One thing he had not expected was that it was night. He had planned to visit in the day, and he knew that he should come back later, but he couldn't resist. She was _right_ there, and he had to see her.

He quietly slipped towards the house, but froze when a light turned on upstairs.

He frowned. It was two o'clock in the morning, by his judgment. Why was she still awake?

He watched through a window as Alana walked back to her bed and sat down on the edge, placing her head in her hands. He could tell that she was exhausted.

_Sleep,_ he willed her, but instead she stood up and began pacing the floor, rubbing her temples.

* * *

Alana was absolutely exhausted. She hadn't been able to sleep since London.

She was so confused, so frustrated. What was going on with her? Where was her memory? How was her past related to Lucas?

_Loki_, she reminded herself sharply. _Loki, not Lucas. He lied to you, Alana, he could have helped you all along!_

She couldn't take it anymore. It was two thirty in the morning and she was wide-awake.

Pacing the floor helped her relax somewhat, but she was still much too wound up.

Sighing, she walked to her closet to grab a sweater. Her hands drifted towards a soft gray one that she hadn't worn in forever.

As her hand brushed it, feeling the soft wool, a flashback hit her hard.

_Standing at the kitchen counter wearing the gray sweater, trying to make pasta, (not working out so well) and long, pale arms wrapping themselves around her waist. She feels a shiver go down her spine as he kisses the side of her neck. "Smells wonderful," a low voice murmurs. She laughs and says, "It's probably going to taste terrible." _

_She can feel him smiling mischievously behind her. "I didn't mean the food."_

She stumbled, clutching the edge of her dresser and knocking over a pile of books stacked there.

A few tears slipped out of her eyes. The flashbacks were coming so often now, and they hurt even more. What was _happening_ to her?

* * *

Loki watched concernedly as Alana stumbled. She must have had another flashback.

It pained him to see her like this, lost and alone, hurt him like a dagger in his side.

He couldn't wait any longer.

Praying that his thumbprint had not been erased from the database, he crept up to the front door and pressed his thumb against the gleaming black pad.

The front door unlocked with a small _click_, and he was in.

Looking around at the familiar layout, the same chairs and tables and piles of books, calmed him almost as much as seeing Alana again.

He caressed the torn copy of _Hamlet_ that he had read out loud to her so many years ago.

He gazed at the bowl of apples on the coffee table, remembering how she threw one to him on his first day there.

He missed her so much.

He noticed a leather-bound book on a side table; the sketchbook he had given her on Asgard. He flipped through it, smiling at her fanciful illustrations of bilgesnipe and of Dark Elves, and finally finding her illustration of him in his Jotunn form.

She had gotten every ridge right, every swirl that covered his forehead. He had originally asked her to draw him as a frost giant in hopes that it would trigger her memory, but it had not.

At least she remembered subconsciously.

Flipping to the next page, he saw a multitude of words swirling around the page.

_Lucas, stars, hospital, piano, Asgard, Thor, amnesia, shot, bullet, flying, fighting, magic,_ and_ rooftop _were among them. And _Loki. _His name was repeated over and over again, in large letters and small, crammed in wherever there was room.

He ran his slender fingers over the words, feeling the force with which they were written.

Hearing the padding of feet on the stairs, he dropped the sketchbook, cast a quick invisibility spell and slunk into a dark corner, just for good measure.

Alana flicked on the light and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. She looked haggard and wan, and had dark circles under her eyes. When she opened those grey orbs that he had dreamed for so long about, he saw that they lacked their usual gleam and were rimmed with red, like she had been crying.

He wanted to rush to her and hold her in his arms, to tell her that he was here, that everything would be alright, that he loved her and that he was so, _so_ sorry.

He wanted to stroke her hair and rock her while she cried and to never let her go.

Most of all, he wanted her to remember.

But he could only watch while she stood silently, broken and forsaken.

* * *

Alana wanted it to be over.

She couldn't take the constant flashbacks, the memory of things that had slipped away. She couldn't take the pain that emerged in her heart when she thought of Loki, as much as she wanted to forget him.

She had no friends, or if she did, she couldn't remember who they were.

She had no job, no purpose in life.

Above all, she was tired.

So tired.

But she wasn't tired enough not to feel Loki's necklace burning ice cold when she walked downstairs.

Her hand brushed the handle of the drawer where she kept her gun.

"I know you're here," she finally said, voice trembling.

There was a pause, and then he emerged from the shadows.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, another cliffhanger. I'm mean. Sorry. **

**Review? **


	31. Shattered

**SEVEN**

* * *

_And I've lost who I am, and I can't understand_

_Why my heart is so broken, rejecting your love, without, love gone wrong, lifeless words carry on,_

_But I know, all I know, is that the end's beginning_

_Who I am from the start, take me home to my heart_

_Let me go and I will run, I will not be silent,_

_All this time spent in vain, wasted years, wasted gain,_

_All is lost, hope remains, and this war's not over_

_There's a light, there's the sun, taking all shattered ones _

_To the place we belong and his love will conquer all_

_\- "Shattered," Trading Yesterday_

* * *

"Alana - " he started, walking towards her with his hands in the air, but she cut him off, fire in her eyes, but tears as well, ice in her voice, but a tremor that told him that she was, not, in fact, sure, but had reached her limit, was through with it all.

"Who are you?"

The tone of her voice and the mere question itself hurt him more than it should have.

"Thor told you."

It was not a question. His brother, foolish as he was, would have told her, he knew that, but she would have found out _somehow_, reasoned the portion of his brain that still loved Thor.

He quickly silenced that part.

"Who are you to _me_?" she asked again, voice trembling.

"Alana, please – "

"Don't say my name."

"I can explain," he said, trying to placate her, to calm her, "please, just let me try."

He started to walk toward her slowly, feet silent, remembering that night that they kissed, right here, in this room, and she was his and the world was right and her lips were sweet and -

"Don't move."

"All right," he said, "all right," retreating slightly, one hand raised in a conciliatory gesture, one resting on the table, a finger barely grazing the cover of _Hamlet_.

Alana's eyes flashed to the book for barely an instant and she doubled over, collapsing, as a flashback took her once more.

_Lying together on the worn leather couch, cradled against his side, his arm wrapped comfortingly around her, dozing off, drifting into sleep as his low voice, his smooth voice, the voice that she loves, murmurs the tragedy of Hamlet to her, the mad prince, his lost love, words of betrayal, deceit, and yet words of beauty, speaking them in a voice that is hypnotic, beautiful, more beautiful than silk, than lilies. Before she drops off completely, lulled by his voice, she hears him whisper to her, soft lips grazing her ear, "Doubt thou that the stars are fire, doubt that the earth doth move, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love." He kisses her forehead tenderly, sealing his promise, and then she is asleep._

She screamed, feeling as if her head was splitting in two, her mind writhing in pain, and he could feel it too, her anguish, her uncertainty and her pain, amplified to him, her other half, missing for so long.

He moved towards her, worry written on his brow, concern in his eyes, but she rasped, "Don't move!"

He did so anyways, crouching down beside her, hands gentle, placating. "Alana, please, let me try to explain. I never meant - "

"No. Don't speak. Please."

She covered her eyes with her hands, struggling to restrain her tears, trying to calm herself down, breathing deeply. This pain was more than she could bear, but she had to know, she had to. "Everything you do, everything you say, it _hurts_."

Loki looked at her sadly. How had they come to this? Their love that he had thought was so strong had vanished from her mind with the help of a few wires and computers, and he didn't know either anymore, he didn't know if he had imagined it or not.

Alana took a deep breath, determinedly not looking at him, her eyes fixed on a point in the wall.

"You lied. And somehow, this doesn't really surprise me. But I want to know why. Why that doesn't surprise me. And couldn't you – " her voice finally broke, "couldn't you have helped me?"

A tear slipped out of her eye, and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and brush it away, to kiss it away, but instead he balled his hand into a fist, feeling his nails pierce his palm, the sharp pain grounding him firmly in the moment.

"I just want to know what happened to me. Please. Just… help me."

He nodded cautiously, and then spoke softly, hesitantly, unsure of what to say.

"I might be able… I think I could stop your flashbacks. Or try to. All those books that I was reading… they were for you. And I finally found one…. But I don't know what would happen – to you or to your mind."

"First tell me. What happened to me?"

He didn't know how to break it to her gently, and he was _so_ sick of lying to her.

"Your mind was wiped. Your memories were stolen."

She did not move.

"You… were chosen to guard me when I fell here."

She let out a little scoff. "Why me? I'm the _worst_ person – I'm the worst _possible_ person who they could choose to guard someone, much less someone like _you_. Haven't you noticed how _trusting_ I am?" she spat bitterly.

That stung like a knife wound, but he pressed on, determined, now that he had started, to try to bring her back.

"You have special abilities. That's why. You were the only person who could possibly stop me… if something happened."

_"__I'm _so _gonna beat you up," she says, smiling at him, frosty wind whipping a strand of black hair in his eyes. "You can try," he smirks, cocky and self-assure, and she wants to kiss him -_

She inhaled deeply, shaking the memory off, clenching her eyes shut. Loki stopped talking and looked at her worriedly.

"Keep going," she said, jaw clenched tight.

He ran his fingers through his hair. "Alana, I - "

"Keep _going_."

But he was scared now, he was terrified, because if the memories hurt her without the knowledge of them, what would happen when she found out the truth? What if something happened, what if breaking the wall meant breaking her? Holding her as she died, his fault, all his fault, but this torture that she was going through was his fault too, and he didn't know what to do anymore, didn't know what was right or what was wrong anymore. "I can't – " he started, but she cut him off once more, eyes blazing, her full anger, the depth of her desperation finally washing over him.

"Why won't you tell me? What _happened_? It's my life, I think I have a right to know! I wake up every morning and wonder who I am, what I'm missing. It feels like I've been torn in half, like I'm not whole anymore! I can't remember why my parents and brother are gone, why I'm even _in_ S.H.I.E.L.D., I can't remember anything! And the little that I thought I knew is being destroyed, inch by inch, with every _lying_ word that comes out of your mouth, Loki! Who are you, really? I _guarded_ you? You fell here? And I have _special_ _powers_, so I could take you down? Is my life a book to be rewritten as you see fit?" She paused, chest heaving, and Loki wanted to run, to flee from this vengeful goddess, not the person he knew and yet the same, except she hated him, she hated him and would never – no, _could_ never trust him again, and every word out of her mouth was true, he had lied to her and murdered for her, not been there for her, alienated her, his fault, his fault, _his fault_.

"And you… who are you? Really? Why are you in my head, what do all – what do all these scenes mean? Did they actually, truly happen, or is it just your perverted idea of a prank, _Trickster_?" She spat the last word, the title he had once been so proud of, and he felt the fire start to grow in him, he felt the injustice and that old feeling of utter recklessness rise to the surface, so familiar, tempting him, tantalizing him with its power. He would see her cower; she would bow before him – no, no, what was happening? He _needed _her, he _loved _her! But he was swept away by her fury, and as she shouted, "What did you _DO_ to me?" he shouted at her, point-blank, he raged, "I LOVED YOU!"

Silence in the room, and she looked empty.

But his fire was not so easily stopped by silence, and he continued, pouring out his frustration and his fear and his pain and his sorrow. "I loved you from the moment I saw you and all the moments after, the moment you threatened me, joked with me, hid yourself from me, taunted me. I loved you when I kissed you in _this very room_, and you kissed me back, and pushed me away, and told me your secrets under the stars, I loved you when you lay in my arms, I loved you when we did nothing together, when you burned the food, when you made me watch movies with you in the middle of the night, I loved you when you almost punched me when I snuck into your bed one night, I loved you when you were taken away from me, screaming, by S.H.I.E.L.D., I loved you while you were having your mind wiped and I stayed by your side, and I have loved you _every moment_ since then."

He paused, then added, viciously, "_And you loved me back._"

Alana looked as if she had been run over. Her mouth was open slightly, her eyes wide but dry, her lip trembling. _"Did you love her?"_ she remembered, and his response, _"More than life." _And as he had vented, pouring out his soul, baring it deep, she had remembered, all those nights in his arms, all those tears, the laughter, the sorrow, the kisses stolen late at night, and he had been hers, and she had loved him, and – oh, God, what had she said to him? What had she done? Her memories flooded through, her wall finally broken, finally shattered, broken by his anger, by _her_ anger.

Broken by his love.

But she had hurt him, hurt him deeper than ever, he had been trying to _help_ her, but she had lashed out, and now there was a chasm between them, a chasm she could not cross._ Oh, Loki. What have I done?_

_My fault._

They stared at each other, and Loki felt the rage subside slightly, enough for the regret to set in. _Alana, what have I done?_

If she was broken, it was his fault.

_All my fault._

"Loki?" she whispered finally. "Please…" she stretched out her hand to him.

He turned away, unable to bear it. _How many times must I hurt you before you leave me forever?_

"Don't go," she whispered. "I think… I think my memories are back." She sounded unsure and hesitant.

Her head was beginning to hurt, a sharp pain behind her eyes, she felt dizzy, swaying slightly – _so many memories flooding my head, all at once _ \- and his back was still turned to her, was he going to leave? No, she didn't want that, she wanted him again, his arms – _it hurts, I can't take it, no, hold on for him _ \- why was the room spinning?

"Please don't leave," she said, and then collapsed to the floor.


	32. Let Her Go

**EIGHT**

* * *

_Staring at the ceiling in the dark_

_Same old empty feeling in your heart,_

_'__Cause love comes slow and it goes so fast_

_Well, you see her when you fall asleep,_

_But never to touch and never to keep_

_'__Cause you loved her too much_

_And you dived too deep_

_Well, you only need the light when it's burning low_

_Only miss the sun when it starts to snow_

_Only know you love her when you let her go_

_\- "Let Her Go," Passenger_

* * *

Loki knelt beside Alana, crumpled on the floor. His heart was racing and he didn't know what to do. He should leave her, he should carry her to her bed and leave her, he couldn't take it anymore. All this pain following him, the hurt and loss and death had caught up to him and he couldn't bear it. He needed to leave her. He would leave her to go on with her life, to meet someone else, fall in love again, forget him again, raise a family without him – and his heart dug in its heels and told him to imagine her in another man's arms, to imagine another man kissing her and making her laugh, and pure rage and fear sparkled in his eyes, she was _his_.

But then he remembered her anger, her fury, and was she his anymore? Was she different from the person he had loved?

Was he different?

Oh, _why_ had he lied to her? From the start, he had lied, he had lied, he had lied, and she was paying the price, now.

_Don't go… please don't leave._

But if he left, she would awaken alone, she would know that he had abandoned her. If he loved her, he should leave, or should he stay? Did he love her enough to leave? Could he give her up that easily? Could he stay? She had sounded frightened, frightened that he would leave her, but she didn't understand, he was poison and he _had _to leave.

Her face was pale, that ridiculous, beautiful strand falling into her closed eyes. He reached out and brushed it away, tucking it behind her ear.

Was he brave enough to leave? Selfless enough?

He was not. He was not selfless. He was not brave. But for her sake, he had to be.

The head and the heart fought their resounding battle, but the heart was weak, having lost for so long, ruled solely by the logic and the hatred of the mind. He knelt beside her in the darkness of the night and a tear dropped onto her cheek, salt on porcelain, and he knew what he had to do.

He gathered her up in his arms, lithe arms supporting her, carrying her up the stairs, into her bedroom.

A piece of paper from a notebook beside her bed was torn out, and a slightly tremulous hand wrote a note and tucked it into her hand.

But he was tired and she was asleep, and what would be another five minutes watching her, seeing her breathe, her face turned towards him?_ No, I have to leave. _

He sat in the chair he had sat in so long ago, watching her, worried, and oh, he had been so young. They had not known what was to come, their fates, he had only known he loved her.

_Just five minutes_, he promised himself.

_Then I _will_ leave her._

* * *

Alana awoke with a start, heart pounding. Her fists were clenched tight and her memories… gone. Again.

She groaned and let her head fall back on her pillow. Gone again, but she had had them, there was something she had remembered about Loki…

Loki. Where was he? Had he… had he left?

She slowly became aware of a piece of paper in her fist. She unclenched it and unfolded the paper cautiously. _What did you do, Loki?_

_I'm sorry,_ the paper read. _I have to leave. You do not need me. I will only poison your life as I have poisoned your soul._

_But know that I love you forever._

A tear fell from her eye involuntarily, and she angrily swatted it away. He couldn't leave, she still needed her memories back!

She had to find him.

She slipped out of her bed and recoiled in surprise.

In a darkened corner of her room, a god sat sprawled in her desk chair, worn out at last. His face was peaceful, his brow unfurrowed, and she smiled.

It turned out that he had not left after all.

Despite his regal garb, he didn't seem to stand out. _This is right,_ Alana thought. _He should be here. This is right._

And with that thought, a flashback settled over her, but this one was gentler, more like a dream, and this time she embraced it.

_She is lying on a beach, and despite her sleep, she is acutely aware of his body, inches from hers. Driven by some force in the back of her mind that she cannot understand, she rolls over, her head resting on his bare chest and he smells of salt and the sea, and she can feel the grittiness of the sand against her face. She feels him stiffen, then slowly relax as his arm curls around her cautiously. The moment stretches on and on… and then she shifts and she hears, very clearly, "Damn it, I love you, Alana Cooper."_

_She smiles and says, "I love you too."_

The memory released her, and a hint of a smile fell across her face.

She stood next to him, watching the way the faint light of the sunrise fell across his face and lingered, dark shadows mingling with his pale skin, black on white. A fallen angel, in her bedroom.

His lips were parted slightly as he breathed in and out, and she found herself moving closer, closer, closer…

His lashes fluttered and she stepped away quickly, heart racing, running a hand through her hair.

He had said that he had loved her.

The idea was strange, foreign. She'd never really thought that she would be someone that would be loved like that.

But he had lied to her, and she couldn't trust him, and she wasn't sure anymore, she wasn't sure if her feelings for him were real or just a product of the past, and she wasn't sure if he was in love with her or the person she had been.

But she would not let him leave until her memories were back. She would not.

And once her memories were back, then she could decide if her future would remain intertwined with his.

He breathed deeply, his chest falling and rising with a steady, peaceful ease.

She balled her hands into fists, regretting to have to wake him, but she touched him lightly on the shoulder and his eyes sprung open.

When he saw her, he stood up so fast she took a step back. He swore viciously and whirled around, facing the wall. "One thing!" he shouted to the air. "I can't even do _one thing_ right!"

"You're not leaving."

He spun back around, facing her. "Let me go," he said, and his voice was furious. "Let me leave, don't you understand – why do you do this to me?"

He collapsed back into the chair, hands covering his face.

"Just let me go."

She was wary, but stood her ground. "No."

"DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?" he roared, standing up, inches from her face, pain and rage written on every line of his. "I will KILL YOU! I already have! I saw you die in front of me, I saw you scream, and now you won't let me SAVE YOU? There is no future for you with me, only pain and fear and death! I am not your fairy prince, come to sweep you off your feet! There is no happy ending for me, Alana! Let me GO!" he screamed at her, and she flinched away, eyes wide.

He closed his eyes for a second, trying to compose himself. "I cannot stay."

She folded her arms in a show of determination but he could see her fingers trembling slightly. "You are not leaving until I get my memories back."

"You said they _were_ back."

"Now they aren't. You said you knew how to fix me. Then do it. Fix me and then you can leave."

He sighed in exasperation. "It doesn't work like that. I can't just snap my fingers and heal your mind. Nothing like this has ever been done before, Alana. It would take weeks, months, even. And I will not stay that long."

Her eyes narrowed. "You lied again."

"What?" he asked, nonplussed.

"You lied," she breathed. "I knew it. I knew it was too good to be true. You, falling in love with _me_ – it's a sick joke, and if – if you've been lying to me then maybe it'd be better to not have memories at all." Her voice trembled and her eyes were bright, but she held her head high and the look on her face made him hate himself.

"Alana," he whispered, stepping closer to her, taking her hand (she flinched again), "no. Never, I swear. It was the truth, I loved you, I still – I still do, I promise. And that's why I have to go. I don't want to, but I can't hurt you again. I can't. I would rather die."

She pulled her hand from his. "Then you'll just have to be very careful, because I'm getting my memories back whether you like it or not."

The corner of his mouth curled up into a half smile. "There's the fire."

She frowned a little at him and left the room.

* * *

**A/N: Wow. That took way too long to write. Sorry.**

**Please review.**


	33. Soon

**NINE**

* * *

_Shining light in every soul I know__  
__Guide me through the night__  
__Bring me home__  
__Soon, I'll be there soon_

_Soon, I'll tell you all that I've been through__  
__Change, could it be I've changed, somehow_

_Shining light in every soul I know_

_Guide me through the night__  
__Bring me home__  
__Close your eyes and all your fear will go__  
__Gravity and love pull me home to you__  
__Soon_

_\- "Soon," Kate Havnevik_

* * *

"If we do this - "

"_When_ we do this." Alana corrected. "You're not getting out of it, Loki."

He sat on the floor of the living room across from her. The early morning light shone through the windows and played across her face, illuminating her watchful eyes and determined expression.

Too determined. He sighed. "You need to know what's going to happen, how it's going to work."

"Go on," she said.

"I told you that you were assigned to guard me."

When she didn't interrupt, he pressed on. "That you had special powers." Here, she rolled her eyes. He reached out and turned her face towards his again. She trembled a bit when his fingers grazed her jaw and he quickly dropped his hand, mentally cursing. He wanted to caress her face, to touch her, to hold her like he once had, but he could not.

Oh, how the times had changed.

"You did. You were – how did you put it? Impossible."

She scoffed. "Loki, I'm _normal_." She spat the word like a curse. "I'm normal, I'm not anything special, I'm not important- and you, you're, you're a _god. _A _prince._ I don't – I can't - "

"Alana." His whisper cut her off. "Don't _ever_ say that. Don't ever think that. You are so, _so_ important. So special. You are the only one in a thousand years to steal my heart so fully. Don't you understand, Alana? You are the only light in my sky, you carry my heart with you wherever you go - "

"Stop."

She breathed deeply, closing her eyes. When she opened them, her gaze was remarkably steady. "Just… stop. Please. I need… time. To think about this. About the 'us' you say exists. And I can't… not now."

She met his eyes. "I need my memories first."

"All right," he said softly. He paused for a second, collecting his thoughts, the angry and the fearful and the worried ones, and hid them away. _Concentrate or she will die._

"The mind is a complex thing, Alana." As he spoke, his fingers danced in the air and a map of her mind appeared, floating, composed of pure light. "Some say that it is only an organ, some a physical place." The image on the map zoomed across plains and valleys. Alana was transfixed, reaching out in an attempt to touch it. "The Aesir have always considered it more like a map." A huge stone wall, miles high, rose up on the image, black and foreboding.

"What's that?" Alana asked in a hushed tone.

"Your wall."

He waited for that to sink in, a small smile appearing on his face as her jaw dropped. "This is… this is my _mind?_"

"Mmm. The people who wiped your memories placed the wall there. 'Wiped' though, is not the right term. It is impossible to truly erase one's memories, but they can be blocked, concealed. Behind this wall are your memories."

The look of longing on her face was absolute. "My family?" she whispered. "Are they… are they behind the wall?"

_Oh, Alana. I'm so sorry._

"The memories of them are," he answered cautiously.

"Please," she breathed, turning to him, "please, Loki. I need to know, how – help me. Please."

He bowed his head. "I will try, but Alana – I have to warn you. This has _never_ been done before, never. It exists only in theory. I have my magic, but your telepathy is suppressed, and I'm not sure if - "

"_Telepathy?_"

He pursed his lips. _Damn._ "Yes, your telepathy. That was one of your powers. Your eyes - " and here he gazed into them – "would change color, change to the eyes of whoever you were telepathically reading."

She looked stunned, and when he tried to continue, she held up a finger. "One – one moment. I just need… to take it in."

She closed her eyes and when she opened them they were suspicious. "You said 'one of my powers'. Did I have more?"

"Telekinesis."

She breathed deeply, and then said, "Okay then. That's… that's…" She shook her head. "Never mind. You can… keep going."

He assessed her, then asked, "Are you sure?"

She nodded once.

"The theory I found requires another person with many of the same memories as the ones that were lost. But it was intended to be for Aesir only – Midgardians simply cannot connect with minds like Aesir can. Since you have your telepathy, I believe that it could be possible, but it will be difficult. And painful."

He lowered his eyes. "And I need you to trust me."

A heavy silence settled over the room, filling every corner with her hesitation. "I can't," she finally whispered. "I just can't, Loki."

His heart cracked and he said, "Alana, unless you trust me enough to let me into your mind, I cannot help you."

"And I can't trust you until I have my memories back."

Thoughts raced through his mind, how to make her trust him, what could he do? He wasn't sure but maybe… just maybe…

"Then give me a memory," he said, "not one of me, but… I don't know. Perhaps something from when you were small, a memory you _can_ trust me with."

To his surprise, she nodded slowly, saying, "All right. But how do I…"

"Close your eyes," he whispered, pulling her hands up and placing her fingers on his temples. She did so hesitantly, slightly unsure, but nonetheless maintained the contact. "Now, think of the memory. Something small, simple… and try to send it through your fingers. I'm lowering my barriers, all right? Just push your way inside my mind."

He could feel her fingers trembling slightly against his temples as he took down his barriers, exposed and vulnerable like he had not been in years and years. And then he felt her, a faint warmth inside his head, but the light hurt a little and he inhaled sharply. Alana flinched and tried to take her fingers away, but he grabbed her hands and pressed them to his head again, he needed her. And a foreign memory flashed across his mind, at first just vague impressions, but then the image finally solidified and he was swept up in her past.

_Cold. Snow. Happy. And then something hit him in the face and a young boy was laughing, his brown hair covered in snow, and he feels himself gathering snow into his hands and throwing it at the boy, who shrieks happily and runs at him, tackling him to the ground. "Alana!" a voice shouts. "Careful!" "He started it," he yells back, then yelps as the boy dumps snow down the back of his jacket. _

She pulled away abruptly, breathing heavily, eyes cautious. He gave her a hint of a smile. "Oliver?" he asked. She nodded. "A snow day…" he said, still feeling the cold on his back. "One more," he whispered. "Please?"

"But it hurt you," she responded, looking unsure. "I don't want…"

"Alana," he breathed, "nothing, _nothing_ hurt me more than having to leave you."

A look of slight annoyance flashes across her face. "Loki - " she began, but then he pulled her hands to his temples again, feeling her enter his mind for the second time.

_He's walking behind her now, through a crowded hallway full of people, seeing her hair sway down her back, a backpack on one shoulder and then he is running behind her as she bursts out of the school doors into the rain, bumping into a light-haired boy who grabs her in his arms and spins her around. She laughs, a clear, bell-like sound and he smiles. He tucks that strand (_my_ strand, _Loki thinks hatefully,_ get away from her, you bastard) behind her ear and kisses her gently, her hands coming up to hold his face and - _

Loki pulled away from her abruptly, standing up, towering over her, fury in his eyes. "Who was he?" he growled.

She looked up at him incredulously. "What?"

"Who. Was. He."

A hint of a smile began to play across her face. She rested her chin on her hand and asked, "Are you… jealous?"

"Tell me. Now."

She grinned and said, "You _are._"

And then he couldn't take it anymore and leapt at her, ignoring her shriek of sudden surprise and fear, pinning her to the ground in a steel cage of arms, his face inches from hers. "Who _was_ he?"

"Loki," she said, gasping, "Loki, I was _fifteen. _What the hell?"

She suddenly became hyperaware of the touch of his hands on her wrists, of the feel of his body on hers, of those intensely jealous green eyes staring into hers.

She turned her head to the side, breaking the spell. "Let me up. Now."

His hands retreated, his body disappeared from hers and she felt a strange sense of loss, but shook it off and scrambled to her feet. "What the _hell_ was that?"

His back was to her now and his hands were clenched, but when he spoke, his voice was quiet. "Forgive me."

She reached out and touched him on the shoulder, but he quickly moved away from her hand. "It's just when… seeing you like that, happy. That is why I wanted to leave. So you could have that again. Be that again. Find someone… who would not hurt you."

"Loki…" she whispered, but he cut her off, brushing off the moment. "Now. Do you trust me enough to enter your mind?"

She steeled herself, setting her jaw. "Do it," she said simply. And then his hands were on her temples and he pressed his forehead to hers briefly, for a millisecond, and then entered her mind.

It hurt, not the sharp pain of the flashbacks, but a dull ache that spread throughout her mind, screaming, _Invader! Intruder!_

She felt completely exposed, vulnerable, panicked, and without trying to, her barriers began to come down, but he spoke to her inside her mind, a whisper, a thought. _Relax, Alana. It'll hurt less, I promise._ And slowly she accepted the strange pressure in her head and let him show her a memory.

_She's lying next to – herself? – and the other-her is speaking. "When I was sixteen, my parents were killed." No. No. No. It can't be. "It was my fault." No. No. No. "I'm a telepath. And telekinetic. __When I was sixteen, it just… started happening. It was like a section of my brain had been unlocked. I could read minds, move things… I thought I was going crazy." _

_"Most of my friends left. I never told them, but they didn't understand, they were… scared, I guess. Of me. And then, one day, there were these boys. They weren't very smart, but they had realized that something was different about me. They cornered me one day after school, and tried to find out. I refused to tell them anything, but I got so mad that the walls just came down. On them."_

_The memory continues and she is frozen as it sweeps her away. It can't be. Oliver, sweet Oliver, shot because of her? Her parents murdered in the hallway of their home? And Loki's reassurance, his story, they do not heal her like they used to. How can they have erased that? she thinks. How?_

The memory ends and his mind withdraws from hers and as she came back to reality, she found herself clutching at his chest and sobbing, deep, wrenching sobs that hurt all over, _my fault, my fault my faultmyfaultmyfault _and he stroked her hair as she cried into his armor, _not Oliver, please no_ and she wished that she were dead too.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered and held her tight.

* * *

She locked herself in her room that night.

Loki could hear her crying through the door and pressed his head to the wall. The nightmares would start again, he knew, for her. His nightmares had never left him, after she had gone.

He knew that he would only cause her more pain in the future, torturous pain, and he wished that he could feel it instead of her, could shoulder the burden instead of her, but he could not.

And he remembered that boy that had kissed her when she was fifteen and shame filled him for the way he had reacted. That was who she should be with, that nameless boy, she could have had a normal life, a family, children. Instead she had him, a tortured demon with no future, causing her pain at every opportunity, a lost soul with no hope if she was not there.

He entered his old room, seeing few changes, but for a thin layer of dust coating everything. He looked down at his armor, his familiar leather and gold, supple, comforting, but it reminded him of too much, of New York and of Thor, and he doesn't think he wanted to be that person anymore. He only wanted to live for her, and without her, he will not live.

He refused to. Not again.

* * *

Alana pressed her face into her pillow. The tears had stopped now, replaced by numbness.

_I was – am – a telepath. And telekinetic. And because of this, I was captured and my family was killed._

And Loki's past… so full of rejection. Fear. Anger. Hatred. He loved her, she knew, but he scared her a little too.

She punched the pillow, wiping angrily at her eyes. She would _not_ fall in love with him. Not again. She would get her memories back and he would leave. For good.

But then she thought of his arms holding her tight as she cried, how he gave her hope on the roof so long ago, of those lost memories of the kisses they had shared… how she had loved him, promised to pull him back from the dark.

She rolled over, hoping sleep would come quickly and deliver her from her confused, tangled thoughts.

_Damn you, Loki. Why does everything have to be so complicated?_

* * *

**A/N: You guys are all awesome. Thanks for all the support. :3**

**I couldn't have gotten this far without you.**


	34. Monsters

**TEN**

* * *

_Somewhere inside this closet_

_Your whole life exists_

_An evil little secret_

_That keeps you so nervous_

_You're boarding up your windows_

_In fetal on the floor_

_But what you're keeping out is on the wrong side of the door_

_I know the reason you're running scared_

_I met the monster inside of your head_

_You never know the feeling of being alive_

_It's not enough, it never stops coming_

_It's not enough, so take a breath, say goodbye_

_\- "Monsters," Sick Puppies_

* * *

_She's sitting in bed reading. It's pretty late, but it's a Friday night – thank goodness – so she'll be able to sleep in. The doorbell rings, and she hears her parents talking quietly, probably deciding whether to get the door or not. Most likely it's a solicitor. She hears her father sigh. Hears the sound of the door opening. And then, there's a gunshot. Her mother screams. She drops her book, hyperaware now, hands clutching at the covers. What's going on? Another scream. Another shot. The pounding of feet on the stairs. She clambers out of bed and runs into her closet, closing the door, trembling. It's a dream, it's a nightmare, she whispers to herself, over and over again. She tentatively reaches into her mind and recoils, seeing the images plastered in their memories._

_It can't be. It can't._

_She hears them kick down Oliver's door – please, no – and his scream, high-pitched and shrill, his sobs, cut off. But no shot._

_Please, please, please…_

_"__Find the girl. Quickly!"_

_She presses herself against the wall, hiding behind her clothes, but if they open the door they'll see her, they'll see her… she's going to die._

_She hears them enter her room. Footsteps approach the closet door._

_The handle turns._

_Rough hands grab her, drag her out of the closet and she screams. One of them slaps her, the pain blooming across her cheek. "You idiot, he said he didn't want her hurt!"_

_She screams some more – the neighbors will hear, someone will hear, please, please – and is pulled down the stairs. She tries to push them away with her telekinesis, but it's weak and then she's in the hallway and she screams even louder, tears rushing down her face, as she sees the bodies of her parents sprawled across the ground. "NO!"_

_"__Get the boy," one of the faceless men hisses. And then Oliver is downstairs too, and – oh thank heavens they blindfolded him –and he's gagged, but she can tell he's terrified and crying. One of the men places a gun to his head. Her heart nearly stops. "Do what you're told, Miss Cooper, and he'll stay alive."_

_She has no choice but to follow them out, as Oliver and her are placed in different black cars, as she is bound and gagged and blindfolded and driven far away._

_And then the car stops, she is pushed out at gunpoint, and the blindfold is removed and she sees him for the first time, and his cold eyes are staring at her, a hand turning her face, seeing the handprint marking her cheek._

_He turns to the guards. "Who did this?" His voice is soft and deadly._

_The leader of the group points at one of the men. The man in the suit nods once, and a man in black – the one who slapped her - is shot. She tries to scream, but the cloth tied around her mouth muffles it._

_"__Miss Cooper," the man in the suit says in a singsong voice. "Oh, we're going to have_ so _much fun."_

* * *

Alana kept on punching the bag even after her knuckles were split and bleeding. With every punch, she saw her parents on the floor. With every twinge of pain that shot through her fists, she felt vaguely satisfied, as though she was repaying her debt to her parents and her brother. _Blood for blood._

"You should really wrap your hands," a voice said from behind her. She scowled and punched harder, ignoring him.

"You're bleeding," he remarked, his voice inflected just enough that she could tell he was worried.

"I" – a punch – "don't" – another punch – "_care!_" She hit the bag again, tears welling up in her eyes.

And then he was beside her, his hands gently holding hers, preventing them from hitting the bag anymore. He raised her bruised and bloody knuckles to his lips. "But I do," he whispered. "I care."

She pulled away from him angrily. "I don't."

She grabbed a water bottle and took a quick drink, then resumed punching. "Alana," he said softly. The tenderness in his voice cut through her like a scalpel, but she would _not _cry in front of him. Not again.

"I remember now," she said roughly. "Being sixteen. And I honestly wish that I didn't."

He sighed. "I shouldn't have done it, Alana. I shouldn't have… let you talk me into it. I know that. And I'm going to leave. For good."

She spun around, and the fire in her eyes wanted to burn him to the ground. "Don't you _dare_ leave, Loki. I'm getting my memories back."

"You could have a life, Alana! You could have a family! And I – I cannot give that to you. I have nothing to give to you."

The fire in her eyes abated, replaced by the wetness of her tears. "I don't have a family," she whispered, and she looked so small.

He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her tight, but he wasn't sure how she would react. "Neither do I," he said gently.

"Yes, you do," she said, her voice sad. "You have a brother. Thor."

He stared into her eyes, feeling the old hatred rise up in him again. "He is _not_ my brother."

"Then you're blind," she stated simply. "He loves you."

"He's _not_ my brother!" he shouted at her. "He is not. You saw the rooftop," he said, advancing on her, "and you heard my story and he. Is. Not. My. Family."

She shook her head. "Are you sure _you_ don't need a punching bag?"

He turned away from her and started to leave the room, hands clenched, but a hand on his shoulder made him stop. "I'm sorry."

He spun, all hesitation gone, taking her face in his hands, pressing his forehead to hers. "This is why I need you," he murmured. "I need someone, Alana, I need someone to save me, I need _you_, I need your love or I swear I will die."

"And that's why I can't, Loki," she whispered and her voice was so tender, so apologetic, that he wants to kiss her right there, "I can't fall in love with you again until I _know_, until I remember. I can't fall in love with you unless you can live without me."

"I will _not_ live without you, Alana. Not again. I – "

"Don't say that, Loki," she cut him off, "don't ever say that – you can't do that to me. It's selfish, and cruel to try and force me into this. Just… don't."

"But I am," he whispered into her hair, pressing his lips to the top of her head. "I am selfish. I am cruel. And it was only because of you that I was ever saved, Alana, please – save me again."

She pulled away from him and her eyes were sad. "I can't. I can't save you, Loki, I can't even save myself, and look at me. If this is what I'm like after one memory, who knows what I'll be when this is over?" He began to interject, but she stopped him, a finger on his lips. "It's all right, Loki. I want the memories. I _need_ them. But I can't love you. Not now."

She looked down at her hands, wincing slightly. "Ow. I probably should have thought this through."

* * *

_Alana is before him, with hatred in her eyes. "You. You failed me, Loki."_

_He bows his head. "I know."_

_"__Do you?" she hisses. "Can you still remember my screams? How you_ left_ me once it was through? Do you remember my promise to you? I take it back, Laufeyson. You are a monster, and no one can save you. You are a monster. A monster."_

_"__Alana, please - " he begs, but she laughs cruelly. "You never loved me. Never could have loved me, a human, a _mortal. _Or do you not remember?"_

_And he is standing there, in front of Thor, the wind whistling in his ears. "This day, the next, a hundred years, it's nothing! It's a heartbeat."_

_He remembers how she screamed._

_"__You'll never be ready."_

_He remembers the pain in her eyes. _I_ was never ready, he thinks._

_And then she is before him again. "Forgive me," he whispers._

_"__Never."_

He sat up, panting, his body covered in a cold sweat. The nightmares came every night, tormenting him, destroying him. She was always there, haunting his mind. Sometimes they would give him one blessed minute with her. Sometimes he was filled with regret. And sometimes, they ended with him holding her broken body in his arms.

He got up, running his hands through his hair, fingers shaking slightly. He turned on the sink in his bathroom and splashed his face with water.

He stared at himself in the mirror, seeing his hollowed cheeks, his red eyes. Who was he now? A monster? A mindless weapon? A king? A villain?

Whatever he was, he was not worthy of her.

But then, he had never been.

* * *

"One more," Alana said firmly, but he could see her hands shaking, how she closed her eyes when she thought he couldn't see, eyes that were too bright, cheeks too flushed.

"No. We're done, Alana, do you hear me? Go and rest."

"I don't need to rest," she retorted. "Come on, one more memory. Please?"

He shook his head. "No. Four memories are _quite _enough for one day. And you had two yesterday."

"You sound like my mother," she grumbled, then froze as she realized what she had said. He moved toward her, but she brushed him away. "I'm fine, Loki."

"So. Tell me again. What have you remembered so far?" he asked, trying to distract her.

"Up to you not knowing about pizza. Come on, that doesn't even count as a_ real_ memory! It's _pizza_!"

He looked at her, unwavering. "Alana. You're worn out. Go rest."

She sighed, exasperated, but got up, and immediately stumbled. She held up a hand to prevent his assistance. "I'm _fine_," she said insistently. "Just a little dizzy." He stood in front of her, his eyes filled with doubt. "You can't lie to me, Alana."

"I'm not lying," she said firmly. "I'm okay."

"And I'm a bilgesnipe. You're not fine. I've been pushing you too hard. No memories tomorrow. You need to get your strength back."

"What?" she protested. "No! I need to _remember,_ not to _relax_."

"Final decision," he said firmly.

"Loki…" she growled, and tried to move toward him, (possibly to strangle him,) but she stumbled again and almost fell over. He caught her before she hit the ground, sweeping her up in his arms like she weighed nothing. "Loki! Put me _down_!"

"You're burning up," he said concernedly, feeling the heat radiating from her body. She tried to struggle out of his arms, but he held her tightly. "That's just because you're always ten degrees colder than you should be," she retorted. "Put me down."

"Fine," he answered. "_If_ you can walk upstairs by yourself."

She frowned. "Of course I can _walk upstairs_ by myself, Loki. Now put me down."

"All right." He gently set her on her feet, and gestured for her to go upstairs. She took three steps and fell into his arms again. "See?" he said, smirking.

She glared at him, beautifully. "I can't believe this," she grumbled. "I'm not _three._"

He smiled at her and carried her up the stairs. He stopped outside the door to her room. "I can make it from here," she insisted.

"You're _such_ a bad liar, Alana Cooper."

He nudged the door open with his foot, stepping into her room. A flick of his fingers and the covers turned themselves down. He slowly lowered her onto her bed. Her arms were tightly folded over her chest, and she scowled at him.

He pulled the covers up, tucking them around her. "Sleep tight," he murmured and (before he could think) kissed her lightly on her burning forehead.

Her glare softened a little bit, but she rolled over. "Close the door on your way out," she said, her back to him.

He smiled and turned off her light, backing out of her room.


	35. Thirty Lives

**ELEVEN**

* * *

_Good morning, my love_

_It's been a while since we have talked_

_You have grown_

_Your eyes are older than the tallest tree you see_

_Thirty lives can be extraordinarily long_

_Lay me down_

_Lay me down_

_Again_

_My friend_

_I know it's been a while since I could look you in the eyes_

'_Cause I am foolish and I am sorry_

_But sorry never made it feel all right_

_All right_

_\- "Thirty Lives," Imagine Dragons_

* * *

When Alana awakened the next morning, she stayed in bed with her eyes closed, feeling much better than she had the night before.

Was it possible to hate and to love someone at the same time? It felt like she was falling in love with Loki all over again with each new memory he showed her, but then she remembered his lies and wanted nothing more to do with him.

And then she remembered the feel of his arms supporting her, his gentle hands tucking her in bed, his cool lips pressed briefly to her forehead…

No, she didn't hate him, but she _couldn't_ love him.

She took a deep breath. No, today would be a good day. Today she wouldn't think about him. She hadn't had any nightmares last night, a peaceful change. Maybe she'd just stay in bed, cozy and warm.

The light penetrating her closed eyelids was coming from an odd direction, more suited to the opposite side of the house.

Nope. She wasn't going to think about anything strange. She was just going to lie in bed, with an arm curled around her, a soft hand stroking her hair, and her head resting on a cool marble chest that was rising and falling ever so slightly…

She tensed and hesitantly opened one eyelid, wondering if she was imagining things. When she realized she was not, she sat bolt upright and heard a grunt from Loki. She quickly removed her hand from his chest, moving as far away from him as she possibly could without falling off her bed.

"Morning, love," he said, yawning. "I must say, you're awake early. It can't be past six."

She was in a bed with him. She had been _sleeping_ next to him. "I'm not your love," she responded automatically; trying to collect her thoughts, control her breathing. "Yes, you are," he said softly, one hand creeping up and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, but she slapped his hand away. Why was she in _bed_ with him? "What the _hell_, Loki? I thought you respected me at _least_ enough not to go crawling into my bed! Out. Now."

He just looked at her, one eyebrow raised, propped up on one elbow, a smile just starting to make its way across his face. "Did you hear me?" she asked, eyes firmly fixed on him – _god, he was handsome_ – getting more and more frustrated as he started to laugh silently. "Loki! Out!"

He smiled mischievously. "Darling, you happen to be in _my_ bed."

_Oh, damn._

She looked around her for the first time. It _was_ his room, the spare one across the hall from hers. She mentally slapped herself. She must have sleepwalked into his bed.

"Well," she said, trying to regain some lost ground, "this is _my _house, so technically this _is_ my bed."

"Feeble argument," he murmured, his voice low in her ear. She folded her arms tightly across her chest. "You should have at least woken me up, Loki. Why didn't you?"

She stopped him, looking away. "Never mind. I don't want to know."

"Of course I tried to wake you up, Alana." He looked slightly injured. "You think I am… like that? Willing to take advantage of you?"

Her immediate reaction was a heart-shattering, earth-quaking _no_. But she shook it off. She was in his _bed_. Of _course_ he had innocent intentions. Right.

His eyes turned away from hers, almost as if he were telepathic, too. "You were… talking to me in your sleep. You refused to leave."

She flushed a little. "Now I _know_ you're making this up."

His fingertips came up to her temples, but she pulled away. "I thought you said no memories today."

"This one won't hurt," he said gently. "I promise."

"It's not about the hurt," she whispered, suddenly feeling quite small. "I don't want to see that side of me. I don't know what she's like. I don't know if I like her yet or not."

She looked up at him, and his gaze was tender. " I don't know if I want her back," she said. "And I know you want her back, that you don't want - " she gestured at herself contemptuously " – this, you want _her_, not me - "

Here he cut her off, a finger on her lips. "Don't talk like that. You're not split into two, Alana, not you before the mind wipe and you after it, you're _you_. All of you. And I love _you_, not just the you that loved me," he said quietly. "I'd love you if you never loved me again."

She just looked at him for a minute, trying to decide. Finally she sighed and took his hands, pulling them to her temples. "Show me."

And then it was dark and _she saw Loki, sprawled on his bed, lying awake in the middle of the night. She hears the door click open and sees his reaction, tensing and then relaxing as he sees her in the doorway. "Alana, what – are you all right?"_

_She could see that her eyes were open but distant, and – was that a flash of green shimmering across them for a second? - and she shivers a little bit. She had always found sleepwalkers a bit creepy. _

_Sleeping-Alana walks over to the bed and curls up on it, next to Loki. She laces her fingers through his. "You can sleep now," she says softly. "It's okay. I'm here."_

_She could see his puzzled expression as he touches her lightly on the shoulder. "Alana? Wake up."_

_She just looks at him. "I'm asleep?"_

_He looks confused._

"_Damn," she sighs softly. Then, an afterthought, "Are you asleep too?"_

_He pauses, then tells her, "Darling, you're sleepwalking. Come on. Back to bed." He begins to get up, but she stops him, pulling him back._

"_You want me to leave?" she asks. "The nightmares will come back."_

_He freezes. "Alana, we – you don't remember that yet."_

"_Probably not," she yawns. "But I'm asleep. So telepathy works." She frowns. "Didn't I tell you that once already?"_

_He looks down at her fingers twined in his. _

"_Alana, as much as – as much as I wish you could stay, you have to go back to bed."_

"_You want me to leave?" she asks, cuddling closer to him._

_He scoffs a little. "Alana, this isn't about what _I _want. It's about_ you _and how you'll murder me in the morning."_

"_Too bad." She kisses him on the cheek. "I'm not leaving." Her eyes close and she falls into a deeper sleep, one that does not lend itself to sleep talking._

"_All right, then," Loki says quietly, one arm curling around her and the other stroking her hair, a tiny smile on his face._

His hands removed themselves from her temples but trailed across her cheeks and she looked away from him.

"Please, Loki," she whispered. "Don't make… don't make this harder for me."

And then his hands were gone and he rolled out of the bed, away from her, his pale chest taut and lean above his baggy, roughly woven breeches. Despite her words, her wishes, she couldn't take her eyes off him, much as she wanted to. They followed him as he walked, stretching, to the window, gazing out at the sunrise. Every movement was lithe and graceful, deliberate, intentional. A strand of dark hair fell into his eyes and she wanted to brush it away, to tuck it behind his ear and stare into his eyes…

No. No, no, no. _Stop_, she told herself. _Get up and leave. Now. Before you do something you'll regret later._

"The sunrise is beautiful," he commented quietly. "Come and see."

_Leave now, Alana,_ her conscience warned her. But instead she clambered out of the bed, walking up next to him and gazing at the golden sky shot through with red. "Oh…" she breathed, pressing her face up to the glass. Sunrises always awakened the artist in her, but she could never quite capture them as they truly were.

Now it was Loki's turn not to be able to take his eyes off of her: her hair, curling down her back, her lips, parted slightly in astonishment. Her sense of wonder, her ability to see the beauty in everything never failed to amaze him.

She had even seen the beauty in him, had once called him beautiful as she knelt beside him, trying to convince him he was not a monster.

"_Your birthright was to die! Cast out on a frozen rock."_ The memory rang in his ears, and he didn't know whom to believe.

He suddenly wanted her to see him in his other form again, to make sure that she did not think of him as a monster, so he let the blue creep up from his feet all the way up through his torso and onto his face, icy ridges unfurling over his bare skin like flowers.

She turned around, a faint smile on her face, one that dropped away quickly as she took in his new form. "Loki?" she asked softly. "You're a Jotunn?"

He dropped his gaze and remembered his dream from a night ago. _You are a monster,_ she had hissed. _A monster._ And he was. He had shown her, once again, that she should stay away, had given her one more reason to hate him, to flee.

She lifted his chin with her fingertips. "Don't move," she ordered, and ran out of the room.

She came back up thirty seconds later with her sketchbook, the one he had given her. She rifled through the pages until she found the drawing of him.

She touched her fingers to the sketch, then to his face, hesitantly, fingers running over the ridges in his skin. "Blue…" she said softly. "That's how I knew they were blue."

She smiled proudly. "And I got everything right."

"Alana – " he began, but she placed a finger on his lips. "Don't move," she whispered.

He closed his eyes, face turned downwards as her fingers traced across his face, feeling her hands on his cheeks, brushing the curve of his jaw. One hand tucked a strand of hair behind his ears, one finger crept to the corner of his lips, tracing them, and he parted his lips slightly as her thumb brushed against them. And then, finally, her lips were on his, soft, warm, hesitant, unsure, only for a second, and then she pulled away from him and her eyes were rimmed with red. "I shouldn't have done that."

He let his Jotunn form melt away and cradled her face in his hands. "Alana," he whispered, "I love you."

She smiled sadly. "Loki, I can't…"

He kissed her on the forehead. "I know," he said quietly. "I know."

* * *

He had expected her to avoid him after that, and he was right.

She stayed in her room the whole morning. He could hear crumpling of paper and a pencil sharpener when he had gone upstairs to ask if she was hungry.

He had paused outside her room, hand raised to knock, but then had left as silently as he had came.

The moment he had waited for had come and gone and left him alone again. He understood why she had pulled away, he did, but it had hurt all the same.

She needed time.

_Well,_ he thought dryly,_ time is the _one_ thing I can give. Two thousand years from now, I'll still be waiting._

_Two thousand years from now, she will be dust,_ a voice sneers. _She will be dead and gone._

He shook off the voice and grabbed a worn paperback off a side table, attempting to lose himself in the words of others.

* * *

**A/N: (belts out singing)**

**POOR UNFORTUNATE SOULS! in PAIN! in NEED!**

**and sadly for them, I plan on doing a lot more than taking their voices.**

**If anyone has any comments on the story lines, characters, or any feedback, I'd love to hear your input. **

**Drop a review if you liked! (Or hated... or wanted to scream. If so, I'm doing _something _right. ;D )**


	36. (I'm Gonna) Run Away

**A/N: Small changes! A/N's are now being moved to the beginning of chapters. And also, I'm not sure how everyone feels about the song lyrics, but I promise that they often provide a bit of foreshadowing for the chapter, so please don't pass them by.**

**Love and hugs!**

* * *

**TWELVE**

* * *

_We were friends but now you're the enemy_

_Don't need this when there's a remedy_

_It's the end_

_Play your trick on someone new_

_I'm gonna run away_

_I'm never comin' back to you_

_Yeah yeah, I'm gonna run away_

_I'm never comin' back to you_

_\- "(I'm Gonna) Run Away," Joan Jett and the Blackhearts_

* * *

Alana balled up another ball of paper. It was her fault, she supposed, trying to draw when she was angry. The images never flowed right when she was wound up.

And she _was_ angry. At herself, mostly.

How could she have kissed him? It was unfair to him. She kept telling him that she couldn't love him, and then she had completely contradicted herself, had given him false hope, most likely.

But she couldn't deny that the feel of his lips touching hers had almost made her forget everything she had ever promised herself, made her want to lose herself in his kisses, in his arms.

And that had scared her, how he could intoxicate her with the barest brush of lips. She had pulled away quickly, terrified and full of regret for what she had done.

And now she was hiding in her room. Drawing. Why, she wasn't sure, but she didn't want to face him, didn't want to see his eyes, didn't want to see that he loved her. Because she didn't need that. He was helping her get her memories back, and then he would leave. She didn't need that sort of conflict.

Yes, she had loved him once, and he had loved her. But now there was something different between them. He seemed darker than the Loki of her memories, haunted and dangerous. She could see it in his eyes when he thought she wasn't looking.

He wasn't telling her something.

Yes, her mind had been wiped. Okay. That… made sense. But if S.H.I.E.L.D. had wiped her mind because they had fallen in love, then where had he been for the past two years? Why hadn't he come looking for her before then?

And he had been imprisoned for what he had done in those past years. Imprisoned and had escaped.

So she was harboring a fugitive in her house.

What had he done? He said that he did it for love… oh, God.

It came crashing down on her, he had done something to get him _imprisoned for life_ because of _her_. Murder? Genocide? The ideas kept popping up in her head, one after the other, more and more horrible, and she pressed her shaking fingers to her lips.

And then she remembered sitting in front of the TV when the alien attack was going on in New York, and a dark-haired man fighting Thor, claiming he would rule the earth.

_No. No. It can't be. It can't have been him. No._

She grabbed her laptop, fingers fumbling over the keys in apprehension, typing shakily, _New York alien invasion._

Of course, millions of hits came up, mostly news articles and conspiracy theories, but as she searched further, she came across a website with pictures taken in Germany, before the battle began. The headline blared, "CAPTAIN AMERICA AND IRON MAN FIGHT CRAZED MURDERER!"

A video was positioned halfway down the page.

She pressed play.

It started out as a just a video of a lovely night, the curator speaking and everyone dressed up beautifully. Then the image shook and refocused, and a tall man, with long dark hair and a dangerous look in his eyes, grabbed the curator and flipped him backwards onto a stone table. People began to scream and run out of the building, and the image was shaking now, but whoever was filming clearly wanted to get the whole spectacle.

The man pulled out some sort of device and shook it. It began to spin and whir, and he plunged it into the curator's eye. The screaming and jostling intensified, and the curator twitched on the table. The man looked up and smiled, a feral, crazed grin.

She pressed pause.

His face filled the screen, almost unrecognizable, but she knew the eyes, the curve of the mouth, his jawline.

It was Loki.

She stumbled away from the screen. _No. No. I can't have – he wouldn't have – he _couldn't_ have – please, no._

How many people had died in the battle? How many buildings reduced to rubble? And he had said that he did it for _love._

Because of her, hundreds of people were dead.

* * *

The silence had gone on for too long, and he was worried.

He didn't think – no, he _knew_ – that she wasn't the type to hide out for so long.

Staying in her room for the morning was one thing, but it was seven at night and she hadn't come out of her room once, not even to eat.

"Alana?" he called out, approaching her room. "Are you all right, love?" He winced at his inadvertent use of the word – _not what she needs right now_ – but continued on, until he was right outside her door.

He could hear no noise from inside.

"Alana, I'm coming in." His hand turned the knob: the door was locked. He twisted it in vain. "Alana?"

No sound.

Increasingly frantic thoughts ran through his mind, one after the next – where was she?

Had it been that traumatizing for her to see herself as she used to be? Had she finally snapped? Had she been lying unconscious on the floor for hours now?

A flash of magic; the door unlocked itself and swung open, the slight creaking noise the only sound other than his breathing.

The room was dark. The window was open, the drawers of her dresser flung open, emptied of clothes.

She was gone.

His heart pounded, where would she have gone? Why had she gone? It couldn't have been because of her sleepwalking, her kiss, the lure of her memories were too strong for her to just leave him.

Her laptop was open, the screen dark, and he approached it, waking it up, the screen glowing blue, pressing against the darkness of the room.

On the screen, a video had been paused on an image of his face.

Replaying the video, he stood there, watching himself in Germany.

He slammed the laptop shut and swore loudly.

She had found out the truth, and now she was gone.

* * *

Where could she go?

She drove blindly, not sure where, only knowing that she had to get away from him, from the deaths she had caused, and the awful truth of what had transpired during those past two years.

A bag full of clothes in her trunk, a half-full tank of gas in her car, and she had no idea what to do.

Go to S.H.I.E.L.D.? But she had seen that massive exposé on them, she wasn't sure that they still existed anymore.

She pushed her headset into her ear and dialed their New York headquarters.

"The number you have reached is not in service. Please check your number and try again."

She tried Coulson's number, and got the same message.

_Crap._

As her heartbeat slowed, she realized that perhaps she was being too rash. She had run away from her _own house. _

The other part of her mind reminded her that a _mass murderer_ was at her house, and that it was perfectly reasonable to run away.

And then another portion chimed in, saying, _You know he's not just going to sit there. He's coming to find you._

She pressed her foot harder on the gas pedal.

The road was slick with rain, but she didn't care. _Maybe he'll leave me alone if I fall off a cliff._

_If you die, you'll never get your memories back,_ a voice taunted her.

She swore and slammed on the brake, the car fishtailed and she swung her car back around, back in the direction of her house.

* * *

Loki's hands were busy, molding and weaving the magic together, tracking her down. He had her pinpointed to at the very most a half-mile radius, but he had no idea how to get there.

She didn't have another car. There were no neighbors nearby that had a car he could steal.

At least she hadn't taken off the necklace in her hurry to leave, A small boon, at least.

He furrowed his brow in confusion as the small white dot that was she turned and started to move back in the general direction of the house.

She was coming back.

He let out a sigh of relief. Now he just had to figure out what to say to her.


	37. Truth

**A/N: Another chapter! This one took a while, sorry. Lots of different emotions and feelings in this one, both from Loki and Alana.**

**Please leave me a review. They will be snuggled and kept warm and happy. :)**

* * *

**THIRTEEN**

* * *

_If I gave you the truth, would it keep you alive?_

_Though I'm closer to wrong_

_I'm no further from right_

_And now I'm convinced on the inside that something's wrong with me_

_Convinced on the inside, you're so much more than me, yeah_

_No, there's nothing you say that can salvage the lie_

_But I'm trying to keep my intentions disguised_

_And now I'm deprived of my conscience and something's got to give_

_Deprived of my conscience_

_This all belongs to me, yeah_

_\- "Truth," Seether_

* * *

_Loki._

It was a whisper in his ear, a thought.

_Remember the N'itouri._

A smile flashed before his eyes, cruel and merciless, a pair of eyes, cold and blue.

_They are coming._

He sat up on the couch, pulse racing. Had he dozed off? It was the only explanation, but it was nothing, could have been nothing more than a dream.

He was sure.

* * *

It was late when she returned, and she was so tired that she could barely see straight.

Loki stood up as she entered the room, slamming the door behind her a little too hard in her anger and exhaustion.

"Alana – " he started, but she held up her hand. " I don't want to hear it," she said.

She wearily trudged upstairs towards her room, but Loki's soft whisper stopped her in her tracks. "Please. Let me try to explain, Alana."

"Explain what?" she said, turning back around to face him, at the bottom of the stair. "Explain how hundreds of people are dead because of you? How can you even – how could you _begin_ to explain that?"

"You don't know the whole story."

She sighed. "Do I need to, Loki? You're a killer. _I'm_ a killer. My parents, my brother… and now all this blood is on my hands too. All those innocent lives. You killed them because of me."

He closed his eyes. "I cannot deny my actions. I know what I have done, and Alana - would you believe me if I said that I regretted them?"

She just looked at him, shaking her head. "How many lies are you going to tell me, Loki?"

"It was my fault. It was. I was angry, I was afraid, and he – he twisted me, Alana, but the rage was there before, and I accepted his offer."

"What offer?"

"In return for the Tesseract, I would rule Earth. And I thought – if I was king - I could find you, save you somehow."

She shook her head slightly. "The Tesseract? Loki – this sounds like it's going to be a long conversation that I don't want to have right now. I need to sleep. Just… don't come near me."

With that, she turned and walked into her room, shutting the door. He could hear the click of the lock even from the bottom of the stairs: it echoed in his mind, ringing.

How could she ever trust him now?

* * *

She was scared.

And though her mind was telling her that nothing had changed, that she would still get her memories back, he would still leave, it was a lie.

Everything had changed.

A murderer was sleeping across the hall from her. A mass murderer. A mass murderer who was in love with her.

How many children had died that day? How many mothers, and fathers, and brothers?

And all because of her.

She punched the wall, then winced, shaking out her fingers.

She was so tired. Physically, yes, she was drowsy, but she was weary of all the lies, all the pain, all the death that seemed to trail behind her in a dark cloud.

And the look in his eyes in Germany kept haunting her, the insane, demonic gleam that made her want to cower in fear.

Something kept niggling in her mind, though, something from the video, something that was wrong.

_Wrong? Like the fact that I'm sleeping across the hall from a psychopath?_

But it kept bothering her, so she grabbed her laptop: the video was still open.

She muted the video – _don't want to hear the screams again_ – and paused, again, on his face.

His eyes were blue, a devastatingly cold, icy blue.

She rubbed the heel of her hand over her forehead.

Whatever that meant, she was too tired to try to figure it out.

* * *

_"__Do what you're told, Miss Cooper, and he'll stay alive."_

_She has no choice but to follow them out, as Oliver and her are placed in different black cars, as she is bound and gagged and blindfolded and driven far away._

_And then the car stops, she is pushed out at gunpoint, and the blindfold is removed and she sees him, standing there in front of her, and his cold blue eyes are staring at her, a hand turning her face, pale fingers lingering on her cheek, seeing the handprint marking her._

_He turns to the guards. "Who did this?" His voice is soft and deadly._

_The leader of the group points at one of the men. Loki takes three steps towards him and stabs him in the stomach. The man screams, and Loki hisses, "You don't touch her. Ever."_

_The man slumps and grows quiet, and he walks over to her again._

_"__Oh, Alana," he says, holding her face in his hands, pressing his forehead to hers, "I'm so glad you're here."_

Her eyes flicker open.

Nightmares and memories and dreams… all of them are blurred in her mind, for a moment.

No. Loki did not kidnap her. It had been a nightmare.

She preferred the memories.

She rolled over and checked her bedside clock. It was six A.M. and she was hungry.

But she wanted to stay in bed forever, pretending that he wasn't there, pretending not to know what she did, pretending and lying to herself.

Was that what he did? Did he lie to himself? Did he lie to himself so often that he ended up lying to everyone else?

It didn't matter.

She pushed off the covers and got out of bed slowly.

Time to face the day.

* * *

The water poured over him, washing away the sweat from the nightmares. Last night's had been the worst in a while, ending with her lying, bruised and broken, in his arms as the Chitauri ships sped by above.

He turned the water pressure higher, the jet drumming into his skull until he (almost) couldn't think anymore.

Today was not a day he had been looking forward to.

He knew that she would find out eventually, but he had hoped, rather selfishly, that it would come after she had all her memories back. Once she could perhaps think of him not as a stranger but a friend.

What could he say? What excuses were there? Away from the darkness and the cold of Thanos's fortress, away from the hypnotic influence of the gem, he could not spin one tale that would cause her to forgive him.

No, he would not lie. He would tell the truth, as maimed, injured, and horrible as it would sound, he would tell the truth.

_Silvertongue._ He scoffed. Lies were his talent, lies and illusions, and what did that make him? What was real about him?

But the truth… it took a far braver man than him to tell the truth.

He had to be brave now, foolishly brave, like Thor was, once, journeying to Jotunheim. Flying headlong into danger, without cause of the consequences.

He shuddered. He never thought that he would envy Thor for his stupidity.

* * *

He walked downstairs, his hair wet and cold against his neck, and could see her stiffen as she heard his footsteps. He sighed a little.

"Good morning," he tried, slipping into the seat across from her.

She gave a noncommittal jerk of the head and quickly got up to get some more coffee, even though her mug was still a quarter full.

"Alana, it's still me."

She turned around. "Let's get something straight," she said, a tinge of anger in her voice. "You are going to sit there and tell me the whole story, and I am going to listen. You will not call me 'love'. You will not call me 'darling'. You are going to sit there, and after you're done, I get to decide if you're leaving tonight or tomorrow. Understand?"

He nodded. "It is only fair."

"And I want my memories after you're done. All of them."

His heart dropped, mind came to a jarring halt. "Alana, you'll _die._"

She shook her head. "Doesn't matter. It's not your problem if I do."

He stood up, hands white-knuckled on the table. "It's not my problem if you_ die _in my arms? If it's my fault?"

She looked at him fiercely. "No. It's not. And I'm not going to be dying in your arms, Loki. You're not going to be here."

"I will not give you your memories as a condolence prize for leaving you!"

"A prize? A _prize_? They're my memories, Loki! Mine!"

She stopped, hand in front of her forehead. "Okay. Okay. I'm – we're going to sit down, and you're going to talk now, and I'm going to listen, and we're gonna have this conversation later."

She slipped back into her chair, and motioned for him to do the same.

He did, slowly, watching her carefully, and she flinched, almost imperceptibly, when his hands came to rest in front of him on the table.

"I was angry. After your mind was erased, I couldn't think about anything but revenging myself against S.H.I.E.L.D. for doing this to you, to me. They had me again, and I had little hope that they would ever release me."

He took a breath. After so long, the truth was difficult to untangle, it was hard to expose the reality of his actions. But at the same time, it was easy – not like the lies, which he had had to remember constantly.

"They moved me out of my cell at the same time you were being dismissed from the hospital." He smiled slightly. "You saw me that day, getting into the car."

He could see in her eyes that she remembered. "En route to my new prison, I escaped from S.H.I.E.L.D. It was difficult, but once I was away, I was tempted to go back to your house, but I didn't have a clue where I was and I couldn't take the thought of you not recognizing me.

"I managed to conjure up a portal, though I did not know where it would lead me. It could have led into a black hole, into the heart of a star, but instead, it led me to him. Thanos."

The Titan's eyes flashed in front of him for a moment, and chills went down his spine.

"He took me, remade me, into a… _thing_ of fear and anger and hatred. All the pain I felt from your loss was amplified, written over, and he led me to believe that the only way I could save you was through the conquering of the Earth. And it was not only him. The scepter…" and here his voice trailed off, collecting himself.

"The Infinity Stones are some of the most powerful forces in the universe. The Tesseract was one. The stone in my scepter was another. The Mind Gem. It has the ability… to change you, bend you to the owner's will. He gave it to me… but only after he used it on me."

Her face remained impassive, though her eyes softened a bit.

"It was my fault. It was, truly. I blinded myself, I did it to myself, and people suffered because of my choices." He bowed his head. "You were right. I am a murderer, Alana. Thanos told me to get the Tesseract for him and he would let me rule. Promised me pain if I failed. But I thought I could find you, rule the Earth with you… I was a fool. From the minute I stepped through the portal I have wrought nothing but panic and fear. I turned Barton. I caused a massive earthquake. I escaped, went to Germany, and – well. You know what happened there. I fought the Avengers. I killed Coulson."

Here she froze. "You – _what?_ You killed Coulson? Why?" He looked straight into her eyes. "He _killed _you, Alana. He wiped your mind, destroyed you without giving you a chance to argue. Yes. I killed him. And his is the death I regret least of all."

"You _monster_," she breathed. "How could you – he was following orders!"

The hot blood flowed through his veins, carrying the old pain to his heart. _Monster. Perhaps I am._ "He gave the orders, Alana."

"I can't believe this. How many people are you going to ruin because of me? Destroy because of me? You can tell me all you want about – about _mind _control and evil aliens, but none of that changes anything. The fact is, you did it, Loki, and I can't – I can't – " She broke off, tears in her eyes. "Don't you see, Loki? I don't know if Aesir - if Jotunns - feel the way humans do. How can you stand it?" And this she said sadly. "How can you stand the death, the regret?"

He paused, looking at her face. Did he regret New York? Yes, he did, and not only because she was crying in front of him.

"I lied to myself," he whispered. "Every day, every hour, I pretended that I was with you instead of wherever I was."

She shook her head, faintly. "Give me my memories, Loki."

"I can't, Alana. I will not be the cause of your death."

She smiled bitterly. "What's one more life to you, who've killed hundreds? Give me my memories and let me go."

"I can't," he whispered. "I can't. I would rather die."

"Than die with me. But I need them now, and I need them all."

He stood up abruptly, a hand running through his hair. How could she be so calm? How could she pretend not to be scared?

"Because I'm tired, I'm not scared. Look at me. I'm twenty-three and I'm already burnt out. If I live, I'll figure out something to do with my life. With my memories, with my future. If I die… well. Death's been following me around for so long that I'm not scared of it anymore. If I die, than so be it."

He turned to her. "How did you know that?"

She looked puzzled. "Know what?"

He crossed to her, looking in her eyes, the usual gray, perhaps a little watery, but normal. "I was thinking about you pretending not to be scared. And then you responded." A smiled twitched across his face. "You found it. You found your telepathy."

She looked a little blankly at him. "Try it again," he urged. Her eyes flashed green for a second and he smiled even wider. Her eyes reverted back to their usual color, and she looked a little shocked. "That was… that was… wow."

Her face resolved itself again. "Enough distractions. I need my memories."

"Alana – "

"Please, Loki."

And it was the use of his name, not Laufeyson, not Odinson, but _Loki_, plain and simple, not an epithet, but his name, from her lips, and he couldn't do this to her, but she was standing there in front of him, determined, so determined, his beautiful, impossible queen, and he couldn't kill her. He would not.

"Loki." The word was like a cool breath on the back of his neck, reassuring, soothing, a kiss in the dark, a whisper in the sunlight. "It's all right."

He approached her, softly, feet quiet on the tile of the kitchen. His hands came up, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, touching her cheeks, her temples.

He closed his eyes, his nerve almost failing. "Alana – I can't – "

"Kiss me."

He opened his eyes, hers closed. "One last time. Before you give them back. So I can – so you can remember. One last time." And a tear slipped from her eye, she _was_ scared, but trying not to show it, to be brave, one last time.

"Are you sure?" he whispered.

She nodded, and his hand slipped around to her neck and he was about to touch his lips to hers, but the tear streaking down her cheek had wounded him, and so he kissed it away instead, stroking her hair, kissing away her tears as they began to flow more freely from her closed eyes, small kisses on her lashes, her eyes, and he could taste salt.

She opened her eyes slowly. "Go."

"I love you," he whispered, pulling her close to him.

Her hands were trembling against his chest. "Please, Loki, do it now. Please."

His hands came up to her temples again; she closed her eyes. "Please."

And the memories streamed from him, to her, the kisses, the arguments, the sweet little moments passed together, and they all came together in a swarming rush, and he couldn't pull them back, _no, no, please, no,_ and her lying on the white sheets and screaming and the her in his arms screaming as well, _please, no, _and he pulled his hands away from her and the screams stopped, silence ringing.

She collapsed into his arms, and he sank to the floor with her, stroking her hair, whispering her name.

_Fight the darkness, Alana._

_Please._


	38. Fade Into Darkness

**A/N: Hi, strangers. Feels like forever since I've posted.**

**Since I can't respond to your lovely guest reviews through PM's, I'll do it here, since there are quite a few of you.**

**bluescarfman (Even though you reviewed chapters 36 and 35, I'm just gonna respond here): I'm so glad you liked it. Please don't die! Here's a new chapter for you. (And I agree, Poor Unfortunate Souls is the best.)**

**gemma: Don't worry, the fight scenes are coming! Just have to get it up to that point... :)**

**anon: Yes. I definitely am going to keep going. There's a whole lot of stuff left to come... and at least one more book after this one's over.**

**raven: Now. The next chapter is being posted now. :D**

**So, thanks for putting up with the long A/N, and please...**

**Enjoy!**

**(and maybe leave a review?)**

* * *

**FOURTEEN**

* * *

_Looking up, there's always sky_

_Rest your head, I'll take you high_

_We won't fade into darkness_

_Won't let you fade into darkness_

_Why worry now? You'll be safe_

_Hold my hand, just in case_

_And we won't fade into darkness_

_Fade into darkness_

_No, we won't fade into darkness_

_Fade into darkness_

_\- "Fade Into Darkness," Avicii_

* * *

She was floating in the dark, and the only sound was a heartbeat.

It was a little cold, and she could see her breath.

She floated on her back, breathing in, and out. In, and out.

After a while, she began to think.

_Where am I?_

"With me."

The voice echoed in her head. It was a dream, then.

"Not a dream. Come on, Alana."

_Oliver?_

"Yep."

She tried to speak, but couldn't. _How are you here?_

"More like how are you here."

A lump got stuck in her throat. _Am I…_

"Dead? Kind of. Not exactly."

_How can I be "_not exactly"_ dead, Oliver?_

"I wondered how long it was going to take until you got annoyed with me."

She floated a bit more in silence. Then the thoughts came rushing out. _Oliver, I'm sorry. So sorry. I tried – I couldn't – _

"It's all right."

_Don't even go there, Oliver. You're dead. I'm dead. And you were _ten_. You were my responsibility, and… I failed._

"You're not dead. I told you that already."

_It doesn't matter._

"Of course it matters, 'Lana."

The nickname he used to call her tore at her heart. _Oliver… can I die now? Please? I don't want to feel anymore. I don't want to be here anymore._

"Are you sure?"

_Yes. No. I don't know…_

She felt a hand stroking her hair, someone holding her. A drop of water fell on her cheek.

"You haven't been very nice to him."

_Like I bloody care. _I'm_ dying, not him._

"I think he likes you."

_Yes. He does. And I'm dying and you want to talk about him?_

"Well, I think Mommy and Daddy might not approve, but you've never exactly looked for that in guys."

_Shut up._

"Can't stop me!"

She lay there in stoic silence.

"'Lana? Are you still there?"

She sighed. _Yes._

"You have to choose now."

_Choose what?_

"Well, you can fight and go back, or you can die."

_I have to fight?_

"Well, yeah. I mean, you're not dead, you're just stuck. You're gonna die, though, if you don't make up your mind. You only get a little more time."

_I don't know what to do._

"You can't give up, Alana. You owe that to me. To Mommy and Dad."

An afterthought, "He probably wouldn't be too happy if you died, either."

What should she do?

Oliver kept talking. "He was nice, and then scary, and then nice-ish. But he looks pretty cool, I guess. But his hair's really long. I think Mom would make him cut his hair." He paused. "Are you gonna get _married?_"

_Oliver!_

"You are! Ha! I knew it!"

_Oliver, I swear – _

He laughed. "Go back, Alana. Okay? I have to go now."

_Where?_

"Back inside your head. Duh."

_But how do I go back?_

"I think you have to try and move."

_That's it? _

"Yeah. I think so."

_But I can't._

"Well, what's the point of being a superhero if you can't use your powers? And by the way, your powers are super cool. I don't know why you didn't tell me. We could have fought crime together!"

_But I don't know how._

"So figure it out. But you should hurry."

_Oliver…_

"Yeah?"

_I'm sorry. And I love you._

"I love you too, 'Lana."

Silence reigned, except for the heartbeat.

A heartbeat that was slowly slowing down…

She thought, desperately. _How do I use my powers? Oliver?_ But there was no answer, and she was left trying to force her muscles to move, her mouth to twitch, her eyes to blink, _anything._

Because at the end, when it mattered, she didn't want to die, didn't want to give in. She didn't want him to be left alone. She wanted to feel again, to smile and laugh.

She would not give in.

Instead of trying to force her muscles to move through her (at the moment non-existent) telekinesis, she reached into her mind to find her telepathy, letting it sweep her away.

It wasn't feeling, wasn't seeing, but it was there – he was there, a bright light, arms around her, holding her. And yet she was still floating in the dark.

And her breaths were coming more slowly now, the fog in the cold was dissipating more quickly.

And she heard him whisper, "Don't give up," and she screamed, silently, wordlessly, she needed to go back _now_, but her chest was burning, her breathing was labored, and it kept getting colder and colder and colder.

Another drop of water fell on her face.

She closed her eyes, calming herself, exploring her mind. She came to a corner that she hadn't remembered before and probed it cautiously, feeling the power surging within it.

She tried to breathe but this time no air came, and – _how long was it before she died? Think, Alana, think – _and she reached into her mind, trying to recall the sole anatomy class she had taken when she was fifteen.

_Move._

She floated, black spots in front of her eyes.

_Move._

She pushed harder, trying to contract her muscles.

_Move!_

And she fell, far and fast, back down, back down to the kitchen and the white floor and the god with eyes rimmed with red, who held her tight as her hand tightened in his and she took a shuddering breath – never had air tasted so sweet – and he pressed his lips to her forehead.

"You're safe," he whispered. "You're safe. I'm here."

And oddly enough, she believed him.

* * *

She sat, huddled, on the couch, a blanket wrapped around her and a steaming mug in her hands.

He sat opposite her, perched in a chair, hands folded under his chin, assessing her.

She sighed. "Really, Loki. I'm all right."

"Of course." But he did not move, did not drop his gaze from her.

They sat in silence as she sipped her tea.

"I feel… older," she said, her eyes hesitantly meeting his. "Like I just aged a year. In ten minutes."

He tapped a finger on his chin. "Probably a side effect. I'm sure it will disappear with time."

Another silence filled the room, and she seemed so far away…

"Loki. Stop looking at me like that."

He inclined his head in an apology as she got up, dropping the blanket on the couch.

She exhaled slowly, a hand twisting through her hair, walking into the kitchen. "I think we need to talk," she said, refilling her mug.

When he did not answer, she pressed harder. "We do, Loki, you know it."

"Yes," he said, standing up as well. "I agree." His eyes met hers and drifted away, down to the floor.

She leaned against the counter. "Do you want to take a walk?"

* * *

Sticks crunched under her feet as they walked through the woods, but his step was quiet and deliberate.

She stuck her hands in her pockets, and just looked at him, his pale skin looking almost ethereal in the half-light of the trees. His face was calm and impassive, except for a slight muscle, twitching in his jaw.

"Is something wrong, Loki?"

He let out a quiet sigh. "Your memories have returned. Nothing is wrong."

"I thought we weren't going to lie to each other any more."

"Alana, please. Be content with your memories. I will leave and you can get on with your life."

A half-smile passed across her lips. "Is that what you're thinking about, then? Having to leave?"

He did not answer, but continued to walk, feet picking out a careful path.

Her hand balled in her pocket, she wanted to reassure him, but knew that she shouldn't touch him. Her new memories kept filling her mind, pressing in on the reality she occupied now, trying to convince her no time had passed…

And she couldn't take it anymore and touched her hand to his shoulder, stopping him. He sighed and said, "Alana. You don't have to worry, I will go without a fight."

"Loki, please, just tell me what's wrong."

"And what would be the use?" he said roughly, stepping closer to her until she was inches away. "I will leave. You will forget, in time. And I will live, and live, and _live_, Alana."

His hand came up as if to hold her face, but he lowered it quickly. She took his hand, lacing her fingers through his.

"I'm never going to forget you, Loki. Not again," she said quietly. "I swear."

"Why are you doing this to me?" he whispered. "Stop this. Stop this, Alana, I can't – I don't - "

He took a deep breath and pulled his hand from hers. "I am leaving, Alana. And I could not – cannot leave you unless I know you do not want me. And all this," he said gesturing to her, to the trees, the very air around them, "all this makes me think I have a chance. Don't you see, Alana? Curse me, and I will leave in peace, I will go, attack me, hate me, do anything but comfort me, feel _compassion_ for me." He spat the words at her, and she wanted to hold him, kiss him – _damn these memories, I don't even know what I'm _feeling_ anymore._

"I can't," she replied. "I can't, because I can remember now, and I remember what I promised you, Loki, I promised to pull you back from the dark and I need to do that now."

He looked at her sadly. "There is no hope for me, Alana."

"But there is," she whispered, and this time her hand came up to cup his face. "Because I promised."

"Alana, please." His fingers, long and pale, clasped gently around her wrist, pulling her hand away, but his hand lingered for longer than was necessary, fingers brushing against the pale veins of her inner wrist. She looked down at his hand, and he noticed, pulling away with a curse.

"Do you see what you do to me? How every second I am in your presence I long for you, your touch, your lips, your smile? Do you see how you torment me? I cannot stay, Alana, I cannot, because I cannot control my feelings. I thought I had accepted that, thought I could love you unconditionally, but I am selfish, I need your love as well. And since you cannot give that to me, I must go, I must go and try to make amends for what I have done, and perhaps then I will be worthy of you."

She stared at him. "Loki, I – "

He smiled bitterly. "Even to hear my name upon your lips is a blessing. How did you ensnare me so?" And then his lips came crashing down on hers, his hands pulling her close to him, and she kissed him back, hard and fierce, her hands weaving through his hair, and it was so right, finally, his lips on hers and the sweet taste of leather and metal that she had only just remembered –

He pulled away from her suddenly. "Damn it, Alana! Let me go!"

"I can't."

"An hour ago you wanted me to leave! And I was ready to, Alana, I would have left forever, and then - "

She crossed her arms. "You kissed_ me_, Loki, and it's not like I didn't want you to."

He paced back and forth in front of her.

"Make up your mind, Alana. Am I to leave or stay? And make your decision now, make it quick, because I need to know _now_."


	39. Say Something

**A/N: Hi!**

**This chapter is a bit more Loki-centric, but has got some good (bad?) feels and a nice little cliffhanger. Just cause I love you. Ha!**

**gemma: Yes. Yes drama. Much drama. I'm glad you liked the dream sequence! And the fights are gonna be epic. ;)**

**matioschka: Your reviews always make me so happy. They are so genuine and always make me smile so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I am so glad that you enjoy it. Hope you like this chapter just as much.**

**Note: I am informed to tell you that my little sister DOES NOT endorse this chapter and, when learning what was going to happen, stole my laptop and refused to give it back. Needless to say, I won the battle, so... ****here is the chapter.**

* * *

**FIFTEEN**

* * *

_Say something, I'm giving up on you  
I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you  
Anywhere I would've followed you  
Say something, I'm giving up on you_

_And I will swallow my pride_  
_You're the one that I love_  
_And I'm saying goodbye_

_\- "Say Something," A Great Big World_

* * *

So she stood there, feeling as if she was about to break down, the two parts of her warring against one another.

_Let him leave or make him stay?_

What he wanted, what she wanted, what to do?

And she just looked at him. Looked at him, and saw his fingers trembling. Saw his chest rising and falling unsteadily.

_Is he scared that I will make him leave? Or scared that he will have to stay?_

She wanted him with her. Wanted him. _Needed _him.

And it scared her.

An hour ago she had called him a monster, a murderer. Ordered him to leave.

The memories ran through her mind. Him pressing a kiss to the back of her hand, formally, like the prince he was. Him whispering to her in the night, soft and low, when he thought she was asleep. Little things. Small things. His expression every time she told him that she loved him. The way his fingers would curl through her hair. His eyes when he woke up, sleepy and yet so _alive_, and how they would brighten when she kissed him good morning.

_Turn back the clock. Make it then, not now. I don't like now. I want then._

But then was gone and she could not pretend that things hadn't changed.

Everything had changed.

"Loki…" she said finally, and he looked straight at her. "This isn't – this isn't what I wanted for you."

"And what did you want for me?" he asked her softly.

She sighed. "I wanted you to be loved."

A small smile worked its way across his face. "I was."

She winced. "Loki, please, please, don't use past tense. It's not – I don't – "

His hand covered hers. "It's all right, Alana."

His eyes saw deep into hers, and she knew that he could read her decision. "It's all right."

She gently pushed his hand away. "Loki, son of Laufey," she began, feeling as though it should be formal, even though she was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, "I release you."

He took her hand and kissed it. "Thank you," he said simply.

* * *

She ran back to the house before he left, and came out holding her old sketchbook.

"I hid it before," she said, "but I forgot where I hid it." She smiled a bit sheepishly, and offered it to him. "It's for you."

"Alana, I can't take this."

"You're going to," she said, pressing it into his hand, but stopped him when he tried to open it. "Not now. Look at it later… when you want to remember."

He gazed tenderly at her. "As if I could ever forget."

She looked down, foot scuffing the dirt. "Loki - " she began, and then she ran to him and pressed herself against him, arms around his neck. "Is it too late to change my mind?" she whispered.

He chuckled and pressed his lips to her head, smoothing her hair with his hand.

The embrace seemed to last forever and only a second, all at once.

As they parted, he looked her straight in the eye. "If you ever need me, Alana, if you're ever in trouble or just need another fighter by your side, I swear I will come. It might take… a little while, but I promise I will be there as soon as I can." His fingers pulled at the chain of her necklace, warm from her skin. "Call for Heimdall. This necklace shields you from his gaze, and his hearing, so you'll have to take it off first. But tell him you need me and… I will come."

Her brow knit, trying to make sense of all the information. "Who's Heimdall? And Loki – where are you going?"

He met her gaze. "I'm going back."

"Back where?"

He just looked at her and her heart dropped. "No. No. Loki, you _can't_ go back there, you _can't_! They'll just put you back in prison!"

He nodded slightly. "Yes. They will."

She punched him in the chest. "Is this what you meant? About – about _making amends_ to me, Loki? For what you did? No. You can't!" Tears welled in her eyes, and she pounded on his chest again and again. He caught her wrists easily. "Alana. Look at me."

She did, her eyes watery, her lip trembling. "Don't go back," she whispered. "Please."

"I have to, Alana."

He enfolded her in his arms again, every second making it harder to pull away.

He could feel her trembling, her hands clutching at his armor. "It's all right," he whispered to her.

"It's not all right, Loki. You - you'll never come back from there."

He stroked her hair. "Alana. I promised you. I will come back when you need me. I swear."

"But I need you _now_," she whispered. He smiled. "And I am here, am I not?"

She let out a watery chuckle, then stiffened. "Loki… what if they kill you?"

_"__If I am for the axe, then for mercy's sake, just swing it."_ His words from long ago rang in his ears, when he thought he had nothing to lose and everything to gain from his death. But now he had her, and he had his promise.

"I swore to you, Alana. I will return."

"No." She shook her head. "No, no, no, I take it back, Loki, you can't go. Not if they're going to hurt you."

He gently pried her hands from his chest, although his body cried out when her touch disappeared. "What's one more life to me, who's killed hundreds?"

She froze as he used her own words against her. "Loki, that's – that's not fair. I didn't - "

"But it was true, Alana. I am not afraid of death. I have suffered too much in this lifetime to worry about the next. If they kill me, so be it." His thumb stroked her tears away.

"Loki - " she began angrily, but he cut her off, saying, "However, I doubt that they will kill me. I expect my previous punishment to stand."

"Which was?" she asked. Her tears had stopped now, replaced by anger. At whom, he wasn't sure, but he was determined to leave, more than ever.

"Life imprisonment."

She scoffed. "Life imprisonment? Sure. Okay. So you'll just say, 'Hey! Guard! Could you let me out of here, 'cause my girlfriend back on Earth needs me. What? I'm not allowed out? No kidding! I thought when they meant life imprisonment, it was more like an on-again-off-again thing.'" Her tone was laced heavily with sarcasm, but a small smile worked its way across his face at her words.

"So you're my girlfriend now?" he asked teasingly, then shuddered. "Ugh. That sounds so… Midgardian."

She blushed angrily and said, "Damn it, Loki! Can you take me seriously for once?"

"But I do," he said, suddenly solemn. "I understand your argument. But I must go. I'll find a way back, if you need me."

She took several deep breaths. "All right. All right." She looked up at him. "How will you get there?"

"The easiest way," he replied. He removed the spells he had cast on himself to make him invisible and unheard by Heimdall, then shouted, "Heimdall!"

Alana's eyes were wide. He looked away. "It won't be long, now," he said.

Her hand came up, touching his hair. The corner of her mouth twitched a bit. "Tell them to give you a haircut."

He looked offended. "Excuse me?"

"It's getting a little long." He looked askance at her. She just smiled.

A silence filled the air. What could he say to her, to reassure her, to reassure himself? Was he making the right choice? He loved her with all his soul, maimed and tattered though it was, and to leave her again was to mutilate it further, to _voluntarily_ torture himself.

But if he did not leave, he was not worthy to love her. If he did not leave, he could not convince himself that she would be all right.

Because the tingling sensation on his spine kept returning, like someone was watching him… watching her.

She would be safer without him there.

He couldn't read the expression on her face, a jumble of emotions, but he could tell that the memories were confusing her, making her feel things that perhaps were not the truth.

His eyes roved over her face, memorizing every line and curve, to keep her with him forever, and his hand gently tucked a wind-swept lock behind her ear.

He stepped away from her. "I love you," he said.

And then the sky opened, the rush of colors surrounding him, sweeping him away, and the last thing he saw was Alana reaching out her hand to him, crying, "Wait!"

* * *

"Wait!" she cried, reaching out for him, but then the light was gone as quickly as it had come, and he was gone.

She stood there, next to the runic knots seared into the earth.

A bird chirped in a nearby tree.

"I love you," she whispered.

But there was no one there to answer her.

* * *

Being transported via Bifrost was usually a pleasant experience. The light would caress and carry you, as the stars rushed by.

But this time, it was uncharacteristically harsh, as if fingers were grabbing and pulling him in every direction, and the stars were dark.

As the Bifrost pulled him back to Asgard, he clutched at the sketchbook, her last gift to him.

They would not take this last piece of her from him.

He finally landed, and Heimdall's impassive face looked back at him as he withdrew his sword, pointing it straight at him.

"Do you surrender?" His deep voice rang through the chamber.

"I do," he said.

"The Einherjar are on their way."

"Very well." He idly walked to one of the walls, his fingers tracing over the intricate designs etched in the metal.

Heimdall only looked at him. "I must confess, I did not think you were foolish enough to return here."

"You did not believe that I was dead."

His golden eyes looked through him. "I had my doubts."

"Why?"

Something flittered in Heimdall's eyes. "I could not see her. She was before me, and I could not see her. Only you were able to hide yourself like she was."

He smiled, still facing the wall.

Heimdall continued. "Who would have thought _both _princes would fall in love with mortals?"

He turned, seeing a faint glimmer of a smile in Heimdall's eyes. "Heimdall, I need your help."

"I cannot help traitors to the throne." And the smile was gone as quickly as it had come. "Do you intend to fight?"

He would not break his gaze from Heimdall. "I do not ask for your help for my sake, but for hers. There may come a time when she is in need of me. If that moment occurs, I ask that you send for me. I swear to return to Asgard once I am no longer needed there."

He could hear the pounding of hooves on the Bifrost, getting closer and closer.

Heimdall regarded him. "I can do nothing without the command of Odin my king."

"Heimdall, please - " he began, but the Einherjar had reached them and swarmed him, slapping cuffs on him, and he let out a breath as his sixth sense was removed.

One of them – _a new captain, I see_ – unrolled a piece of paper. "The Allfather has given instructions for you to be moved to the dungeons until your hearing, at which your permanent fate will be decided before the Council."

"Not even in person this time?" he muttered as he was led out to the horses.

Heimdall watched them go, then turned back to his watch.

He could not see her.

* * *

The clink of chains echoed in the hall. _How familiar,_ he thought with a twinge of sarcasm.

Except this time, Frigga was not there. The Council was.

Odin sat on his throne, the Council was seated on low seats in a semicircle, with the Allfather in the center.

He saw familiar faces – mostly ones that came with a memory of childhood, and the pranks he would pull while they were in session.

This time, the Einherjar stayed back, and let him walk by himself.

This time, he knew that he had to live.

He knelt before the throne, to audible gasps from a few of the council members. "I have returned, Allfather."

"Get up, boy." Odin's voice rang out through the hall, and he wanted nothing more than for his hands to be free –

No. He had to remember her.

He kept his head bowed as he stood up.

"Why?"

The word was delivered less harshly than he had thought.

"We thought you dead." This was spoken by a council member – Lord Freyr, one of the fiercest warriors of the realm. "How - "

Odin interrupted him. "Why have you returned?"

"Because it was necessary," he replied.

"Necessary?" Lord Tyr asked, snorting a bit. Tyr, Sif's father, had journeyed into Jotunheim with Odin and helped capture the Casket of Ancient Winters, and had subsequently gained his title. "You could have escaped forever."

"I could have." He met Odin's gaze, now. "And for that reason I ask a favor."

"You have no right - " Lord Tyr began, but he cut him off, this _lord_ would not prevent him from saying what he had to say.

"It may become necessary for me to journey to Midgard."

The council members looked at him in shock. Then Tyr began to laugh. "You cannot _possibly_ think that we would allow you to return to Midgard."

Odin regarded him out of one pale eye, but did not say a word.

"It is not for my sake," he responded, trying to control his temper. _Tyr has always been a fool._

"Then whose sake is it for?" This was spoken by Lady Freya, Freyr's sister, who looked at him knowingly.

He clenched his fists behind his back. "There is a mortal who may need my assistance."

Tyr laughed again, and addressed the Council. "What has happened to Loki? Has he changed so much that we are ready to believe his words?"

"Silence," Odin said, and Tyr quieted. "Let him speak."

"I swore that I would return to aid her if she was in need."

Tyr shook his head. "Has the Trickster fallen in love with a _mortal_?"

Odin banged Gungir on the stone floor. "I said, _silence!_"

The Allfather stood up from the throne, approaching him. "The one with the healers. Was that she?"

He nodded.

"And the charm, that was you."

He nodded again. "Her memories had been stolen - "

"We have nothing but your word that you would return." Tyr interjected. "Your Highness, we cannot - "

Odin ignored Tyr. "Your crimes are to be punished, not rewarded," he said.

"I do not care what you do to me so long as she will live," he said softly. "Father, I _swore_ that I would return if she needed me."

"This is but a child's infatuation," Odin pronounced. "Your original punishment stands. Guards!" He turned and walked back to the throne.

The Einherjar began to move forward, again, to take him back to the dungeon, he had to do something quickly, or she would be lost -

"And you were my age when you met Frigga!" he shouted.

Odin stopped.

"You told me once that after you saw her, you knew you could never live without anyone else."

There was silence in the hall. "Please," he added.

His heart was pounding, his pulse racing. The Einherjar reached him and began to drag him away, but he struggled against their pull, he could not break his promise to her, he would not.

Odin held up a hand and the guards stopped trying to carry him away.

"A guard will fetch you if it ever becomes necessary."

And with those words, he let out a deep breath, and bowed his head. "Thank you, father."

Tyr exploded behind him, joined by a few other members of the council, but nothing mattered as he was led back to the dungeons, because his promise would be kept and, maybe, just maybe, he would see her again.

* * *

Her house was too empty.

Too big, too quiet, too lonely.

She sat on her favorite chair, but no book could interest her, no drawing satisfied her.

"Maybe I should go away for a while," she said out loud. "To New York City. Find a roommate or something."

She slammed her book shut and began to pace the floor, her hand tugging the charm on her necklace back and forth.

It was quiet.

* * *

He lay on the simple cot, in his old cell, flipping through her sketchbook.

It was quiet in the dungeons. There weren't many other prisoners there with him, but he was not alone.

Not when he had her.

His fingers skimmed over her drawings, pausing as he reached the page that held her eyes.

He traced the lines with his finger, feeling the marks left by the pencil.

Turning more pages, he came to one of himself, lying asleep, sprawled out on her bed, hair mussed.

He had written _I don't drool_ _in my sleep _on one corner of the piece. Her handwriting teased back, _Yes, you do._

He smiled a little bit.

On the next page, he found a study in hands, and in the center was a pair of intertwined ones – his and hers.

A sunrise. A sunset. More eyes. Birds. Trees. And finally, there was one of her.

It was a simple black sketch, and slightly wrinkled – she had torn it out after drawing it, not satisfied. But he had saved it and taped it back into the book one day.

_Why did you save that? _she had asked him. _It's an awful drawing._

_It's beautiful,_ he had told her._ Don't ever throw it away._

He touched her face.

_Alana._

* * *

Far away, a throne made of rock hovered in the blackness of space. Far away, a voice boomed, "Send the N'itouri."

And the priest scuttled away, transmitting the message that the warriors hidden on Earth had been waiting for.

Far away, Thanos smiled.


	40. On My Own

**A/N: Hi guys! Sorry this chapter took so long, I had an episode of writer's block and a lot of other stuff to take care of... *offers chapter up, trembling* Please don't kill me! *hides***

**Gemma (Guest): I'm glad you like it and think it's interesting. And I tried when it came to the Norse people... :)**

**matioshcka: Exactly. Ha!**

**Rhiannon (Guest): I'm glad you like it! Sadly, your review came right before a three-week hiatus... sorry about that. Not really a speedy update.**

**Lilly (Guest): Aw, thanks! Yes, cool stuff is happening... *chuckles evilly***

**coolcat (Guest): Wow! That truly is a feat worthy of Thor. Don't die! Here's your update.**

**Just as the last chapter was a little more Loki-centric, this one's a bit more Alana-centric. Enjoy! **

* * *

**SIXTEEN**

* * *

_On my own_

_Pretending he's beside me_

_All alone _

_I walk with him 'till morning_

_Without him_

_I feel his arms around me_

_And when I lose my way I close my eyes_

_And he has found me_

\- _"__On My Own," Les Miserables_

* * *

The city was just the same as she remembered it.

Loud, noisy, but so _alive_. The perfect distraction. There was no time for moping.

She paid the taxi driver, lugged her suitcases out of the trunk, and walked up to the brownstone building and buzzed the intercom.

A loud noise, and she was in.

She had found her roommates on the Internet, two girls who were juniors at Columbia University, who had been looking for someone to share in the rent. They'd met a few times before the arrangement was finalized. Rebecca was outgoing and had told her quite frankly not to expect her home on Friday nights. Paige was a little less bubbly than Rebecca, but she could clearly see that the two girls had been friends for a long time.

Paige met her in the hallway, greeting her warmly, and helped her to carry her bags up. She hadn't brought a lot – it wasn't like she was selling her house, after all – but her books and her clothing did fill up a few bags.

Rebecca showed her to her room, then rushed out the door for an afternoon Neurobiology and Behavior class. Paige had disappeared into the small kitchen.

The door closed behind her.

The room was small, with no space to spare (this was New York City, after all) but she managed to cram her books onto the bookshelf and hang up her clothes so that they at least wouldn't get wrinkled.

She sat on the bed, smoothing the sheets a little, absentmindedly playing with her necklace.

She couldn't think about him too much, because the emotions were so tangled. Here, in the city, it was hard to believe that it hadn't all just been a crazy dream.

She examined the whorls of the fingerprint pressed into the metal, then tucked it back beneath her shirt with a sigh.

* * *

He had memorized every line of his cell by now. Again.

No books this time, no comfortable furniture. Just the cot, and the guards outside.

He toyed with his magic, creating small creatures running through the air, a vortex in the midst of space, the stars being sucked in.

When he was tired, he slept. The days passed, he supposed, but there was no day or night deep below Asgard's surface. Though by the food brought once a day, he judged that about a month had passed.

A month without the sun…

His thoughts would invariably turn to her. Where was she? What was she doing? Was she still angry with him? Did she wish he were still there?

Sometimes he would pace his cell, wondering why he had been so _stupid_, why he had come back here. Who knew if Odin would keep his promise, who knew if he would ever see her again. Perhaps she would never need him. Perhaps she would never call for him.

Four thousand years to go…

* * *

She shouldered her bag and walked briskly past the stores, past the vendors on the side of the street closing up shop and past the other New Yorkers, going about their business.

It was getting late, and she was heading back with the groceries she had bought. Although New York never truly slept, the crowd around her was thinning.

Up ahead, a ways in front of her, she saw a man behind another woman. The woman was obviously young, perhaps returning from a party or a bar.

Whichever it was, it appeared that the man was following her.

She reassured herself, _He's just walking home, too. _

But as the woman nervously glanced behind her and began walking faster, the man sped up too. Suddenly wary, she reached into his mind and recoiled from the thoughts she found there.

_Oh my god._

She looked around, but there was no police officer in sight, no one else who could help. And anyways, the man had done nothing yet. _Oh, officer, this man needs to be arrested. Why? Well, I read his mind…_

The woman turned down a side street and the man followed.

She followed too, breaking into a sprint, the grocery bag banging awkwardly against her legs.

When she turned the corner, she saw the man had caught up with the woman and had pinned her to the wall. The woman was trying to scream, and struggle, but he weighed at least a hundred and fifty pounds more than she did and had covered her mouth with a hand.

"Let her go."

She set down the bag of groceries, her body tense.

The man slowly turned to her, then laughed as he saw her, a slight woman. "Get out of here."

She walked towards him. "Let. Her. Go."

The woman was not much older than her, trembling in fear, eyes wide.

The man leered at her. "Make me, you little bitch."

"Oh, I will," she said, voice low. "Step away from her now or I will."

He laughed again. "You think you're so smart."

"Smarter than you. Are you scared to beat me up? Or are you scared that I'll win?" Fire in her eyes now, and perhaps her words were not the best, but she was _not _going to leave him with the woman.

His eyes hardened and then a knife flashed in his hand and the woman struggled even more.

He stepped towards her, releasing the woman, who stumbled away, almost tripping.

"Put down the knife."

"Make me." He suddenly slashed at her and met hard, inflexible air.

"What the - " He looked genuinely bemused as he slashed again and again, her telekinesis repelling his strokes.

She let him try for a while, then stepped towards him. "My turn."

She thrust out her hand and a shockwave pushed the man, who flew backwards, into the wall of the building opposite them.

He pulled himself up, groaning. "I'm gonna kill you, bitch." He picked up the knife and lunged at her again.

She smiled tightly and punched him square in the nose. "You can try." He came at her again, knife swinging, her but she sidestepped him and telekinetically threw him into the side of a dumpster. "I've sparred with a _god,_ you bastard." He came at her, swearing, but her eyes had turned a watery blue now, and she dodged his clumsy blows again and again, landing a few of her own, forcing his fingers open, forcing him to drop the knife.

She pulled him up by the collar – _damn, he was heavy_ – and punched him a couple more times in the face.

"Don't ever even think about doing what you were trying to again," she hissed. "I'll know. Do you understand?"

He spat at her.

She threw him up into the air and let him hang there, forty feet in the air. Now he was scrambling for a hold on something, but there wasn't anything to grab onto.

She let him fall, catching him less than six inches above the ground, hearing his screams of panic, and his whimpers as he realized that he was not, in fact, dead.

She let him sink to the ground.

"Get out of here. Now."

The man, finally cowed, scrambled up and ran away as fast as his bruised legs would carry him.

And she was standing in an empty alley, breathing heavily, knuckles split and bleeding.

She walked over to the end of the alley, picked up her groceries, and walked back home.

* * *

A week or so after that, Rebecca and Paige decided to pull her along as they went bar-hopping with their friends, though she protested that she didn't want to intrude.

They didn't care, so she sighed and surrendered herself to a night out.

She wasn't a fan of alcohol, mostly because it didn't take much to get her drunk and because she didn't exactly want to go spilling all her secrets.

_"__Oh yeah, that god that destroyed New York? He's (hic) in love with me."_

So she mostly sat at the bar, trying not to get chatted up by tipsy friends of Rebecca's and nursing her lemonade.

She checked her watch again. How long was this going to go on?

"Alana!" Rebecca called her over. "Come'n dance!"

She waved, but stayed at the bar. Rebecca, apparently giving up on her, went to go chat with one of her other friends who could be persuaded into dancing.

As Rebecca moved away, she noticed a tall man with dark hair in the corner of the room. She almost dropped her drink. _It can't be…_

She made her way through the crowds on the dance floor, avoiding Rebecca and two men who were eager to dance with her, until she got to the corner of the room where the man had been.

It wasn't him.

From a distance, maybe, but up close, she could see that he was more muscular, less lean, with wide-set eyes and a sharp nose.

"Wanna dance?" he asked her, smiling.

She made her excuses and left.

* * *

On the way home, she tripped twice. Once was because there was a man on the other side of the street with pale skin and sharp cheekbones (at a second glance, he had red hair) and once because she thought she heard someone say his name.

To be fair, the second one could have happened.

She walked into the apartment and sighed, running a hand through her hair.

She missed him. She couldn't hate him now, much as she should, as she tried. He had left too much of a mark for her to forget him, and though she could not forgive his actions, she needed him, a physical ache in her side.

If only he hadn't gone… and who knew if she'd ever see him again. Perhaps they had not agreed to his bargain, perhaps they had – but the thought was too much for her to take and she brushed it aside.

She couldn't shake the feeling that she would never see him again, much as she tried…

And then she could almost hear him, saying, _I swore to you, Alana. I will return,_ could almost feel his hands touching her face.

She sighed again, walking into her bedroom, falling onto the bed, face pressed against the pillow.

* * *

"It has been a month since I sent them. Why have they not reported back? Where are they?"

The voice penetrated through the priest, who shuddered. "My Lord, they have encountered… obstacles. We sent them far away after the battle, and they can only travel at night - "

Thanos growled. "I want him. And soon. Will that be a problem?"

"It will not, my Lord."

* * *

It was a stifling May night, and she couldn't sleep.

The noise of the city was muffled slightly by the fan whirring in her room. The displaced air swirled around her, but she was still much too warm.

She kicked the covers off her legs, rolling onto her side.

About half an hour passed, but she still couldn't fall asleep.

She heard one of her roommates (Paige?) return and kick off her shoes, making a clunking noise.

She rolled over again, trying to get comfortable.

Her thoughts drifted to where they always would, back to him.

_It's all right, love._

She could almost feel his body pressed against hers, his cool fingers trailing over her arm, his lips whispering softly in her ear.

_I'm here. Go to sleep._

She turned, half expecting to see him lying beside her, but there was nothing – no one – there.

_Sleep._

And she eventually drifted off, locked in the embrace of her imagination.

* * *

_Loki…_

He tossed on the cot, sweating and shaking.

_Loki… we are coming. We are coming for her…_

_And then he saw her, bloody and beaten, lying on the ground as she was taunted and prodded, struggling to breathe. Her eyes looked into his, and she reached out a hand to him. "Help," she whispered, curling into a ball._

_"__Help."_

He sat up, panting, his fingers clutching at the empty space beside him, where she should have been.

Just a dream. Just a dream.

After all, that was why he had left, was it not? So that she would be safe, away from him.

He slowed his breathing, calming himself.

Just a dream.

* * *

A yellow eye peered through the window, spying Alana sleeping peacefully. A semblance of a smile worked its way across the creature's reptilian face, and it disappeared into the night.

They had found her.


	41. Hey There Delilah

**A/N: Hope you guys think the chapter was worth the wait. Sorry. (Again.)**

**gemma: Thank you! And yes... you should worry. *evil laugh***

**coolcat: Sorry about that... *hides and blushes* here's another? *hides again***

**beckywbotsford: Yes it is.**

**Gemma: Thank you! Here you go. :)**

* * *

**SEVENTEEN**

* * *

_Hey there Delilah_

_What's it like in New York City?_

_I'm a thousand miles away_

_But girl, tonight you look so pretty,_

_Yes you do_

_Times Square can't shine as bright as you_

_I swear it's true_

_Hey there Delilah_

_Don't you worry 'bout the distance_

_I'm right there if you get lonely_

_Give this song another listen_

_Close your eyes_

_Listen to my voice_

_It's my disguise_

_I'm by your side_

_\- "Hey There Delilah," Plain White T's_

* * *

There were whisperings in the dungeons.

The mutterings grew louder, most notably amongst the prisoners, but as time wore on, the Einherjar began to mutter too.

That was what intrigued him.

The Einherjar were the foot soldiers of Asgard, true, but they were the elite, the first line of defense after Heimdall. And they were utterly loyal to Odin.

So the whispers called to him, begged him to unravel them, spin them loose in his hands, and who was he to resist their siren call?

* * *

Paige groaned loudly and smushed her head into the couch. "I can't study anymore. My brain is fried."

Rebecca, a tense bundle of nerves as well (it was finals), shushed her and went back to studying.

Alana smiled a bit and went back to her omelet. She was proud to say that her cooking skills had improved slightly while she was in New York.

She picked out a piece of undercooked ham. But only slightly.

She grabbed her purse, ready to head out. Paige groaned again. "Say hello to the sun for me."

Alana smiled. "Will do."

Once outside, she decided to head towards Central Park. She had the feeling that Loki would have enjoyed it there, a spot of green in the gray concrete of New York.

She walked past a building that still bore the marks of the invasion, with bricks still crumbling and faint explosion marks apparent on the concrete. The small smile slipped off her face, and she continued walking at a slightly brisker pace.

She felt so alone.

* * *

She was deep in the park now, and could barely hear the noise of the city anymore.

It practically felt like she was in her own backyard.

She sat down on a rock jutting out of the grass, studying the sky. _How far away is he? Am I looking towards him right now?_

Her hand pulled at the charm. If only she could call him now… but that would be ridiculous. There was no emergency, she did not need him. _I need you._ There was no reason for him to come, and he would get in trouble. _Please come._ It was a stupid thought._ Please._

"Loki…" she whispered, then quickly clamped her mouth shut, looking around warily. But no one was in sight.

She lay back on the rock and closed her eyes, pretending his fingers were laced with hers.

* * *

The commander smiled from his perch in a nearby tree. The whisper that he had just heard confirmed his soldier's report.

This woman would be key to his Master's plans. And after so long hiding in the shadows, far away, he relished the thought of combat, of action, of blood.

His Master had warned him that the woman was stronger than she looked. But looking at her now, he was tempted to kill her immediately. Her eyes were closed… one smooth cut and she would never awaken.

But the orders were to capture her alive.

His Master had a plan. Although he was not entrusted with the details, he knew that it had something to do with that _vo'shik _that had promised his Master the cube. And the name he had heard from the woman's lips confirmed this aspect of the plan.

His skin melted from the brown of the trunk to his usual scaly gray, and he slipped noiselessly down from the tree.

After waiting so long, a few more days meant nothing to him. This is what the Chitauri had never understood, that the thrill of the chase, of the kill, was so much sweeter when it was lengthened, prolonged, when every detail was known and none were overlooked, when you were confident in your victory.

Instead, they would rush into action, not knowing who would rise to meet them, trusting blindly in their commander. The N'itouri would never do such a thing. He was the third commander since the battle, his predecessors having been deemed unworthy to lead by the legion. This was another thing the Chitauri did not understand, the peaceful transition of power.

The news of their losses did not bring sorrow.

Instead, he savored it, knowing that, with time, he and his legion would be first in his Master's eyes. _They_ would not fail.

What had they to fear from one woman?

* * *

She stretched and stood up on the top of the rock. What to do now? Maybe she could head out to the Met… or maybe she should just go home.

She smiled. Home. Her home, of course, was not in the city, but her small room, the small apartment had become a sort of second home in the weeks she had stayed here.

Maybe it was time for her to really go home.

Coming here hadn't made her less lonely, hadn't soothed her thoughts like she had thought it would. Her nightmares had continued, and she still longed for his presence.

And her powers…

It wasn't that she was scared of them, but she found herself wary of using them too much. They would sweep her away, and she would feel powerful, and the void inside her would fill a little bit.

But she was strong when she had them. Too strong. It was scary, the things she could do, the things that she had done.

And although S.H.I.E.L.D. was gone, she found herself looking over her shoulder, waiting, just _waiting_, for something bad to happen. For the federal agents to come. For the government to lock her away.

A branch cracked and fell and she flinched away, her hand thrusting towards the noise.

The branch shattered.

She opened her eyes warily. Just a branch… just a branch.

It wasn't fair, this life she had to lead. It wasn't fair that she was alone, wasn't fair that he was gone, it wasn't _fair_.

And who knew if he was alive or if he was dead? Who knew what he was doing? Sitting in a prison while she lay on the grass? Rotting in a grave while she looked towards the sky?

_He's not dead,_ a little voice insisted. _I would know._

She reached out as far as she could, feeling the minds and releasing them, reaching further and further and further, but she could not feel his mind, her eyes flashing back and forth, blue and brown and green and gray and hazel and soft and cold and _not his._

She thrust her hand down towards the stone. _Not fair not fair NOT FAIR NOT FAIR – _

A loud cracking noise tore through the air and she could feel it, she was ripping the rock apart –

She shuddered and pulled back, leaving a six-foot deep crack in the rock.

She breathed in and out, slowly, then picked up her purse and walked away.

* * *

The rumors were varying. But they all agreed on one thing.

An army was massing. By whom, it was unclear. Where, it was unclear. And no one knew what their intentions were.

But a whisper of one name that he had caught turned his stomach and made him uneasy.

_Thanos._

He was lying in his bed pondering the rumors, trying to stitch them together into one cohesive mass, when one of the Einherjar deactivated a wall of his cell. He looked up from the cot, one eyebrow raised, and, although his face was blank and impassive, his heart was racing.

Had she sent for him at last?

And then he remembered his nightmares, recurring, her bleeding out and him helpless, and what if she was in danger? What if she was already dying?

The Einherjar beckoned him out of the cell, cuffing him, as he was led out of the dungeons while the other prisoners looked on.

* * *

The weather was warming up now, as spring turned into summer. The fan whirred quietly in her room. She yawned. It was late, and hot, and she was reading, and she was so tired she wanted to drop onto her pillow and never wake up, but she was too tentative.

She didn't like to sleep very much, these days.

Or dream. That wasn't fun, either.

So she propped herself up again, deliberately making herself uncomfortable, to prolong the sleep as much as possible.

A half hour and twenty pages later, she thought she heard a faint tap on her window.

She dismissed it. It was likely a branch. But when it happened again, she pulled open the bottom drawer of her nightstand and grabbed her gun, tucked inside her holster.

Not that she needed it.

She walked over to the window, strapping her holster over her flannel pajama pants, and opened the curtains slightly, making sure to keep her gun behind the curtain.

She peered down at the street and her heart leapt in her throat. He beckoned to her, grinning, his hair tousled, dressed casually in a gray shirt and jeans.

After so many false alarms, it was him. It was finally him. Every inch of his face that she had been so terrified to forget again was there, the sparkle in his eyes, the lanky way he stood – it was exactly as she had remembered.

He mouthed, _Come on_, and beckoned her down again.

She closed the curtains and pulled a T-shirt over her holey tank top that she slept in, quickly unbuckled her holster, pulled on a pair of flip-flops, and rushed out of her bedroom, down the hall, and down the two flights of stairs that led outside, only barely stopping to grab her keys.

The gun lay forgotten on her bed.

She burst out the door and almost immediately stumbled on a cracked bit of sidewalk. He swept her up in his arms in a tight embrace, and she hugged him back.

"Hi," she said breathlessly. He smiled down at her. "I thought that I'd never see you again," she whispered and buried her head in his chest. He patted her on the back, and said, "Well, you know that I couldn't stay away for too long."

He gently pried her arms away from him, and took her hand. "Come on," he said, eyes twinkling. "I need to show you something."

She was smiling like an idiot from the feel of his hand in hers. "Where are we going?"

"Someplace special." And he smiled at her, and she leaned her head against his shoulder with a happy sigh.

* * *

"Do you know of the N'itouri?" Odin asked sternly, his one blue eye fixed onto his.

He swallowed. _It cannot be._ "They are warriors," he finally said, though reluctantly, "and you will not find those more skilled in all the realms."

"So you have met some." It was not a question.

"I have."

"When?"

He closed his eyes briefly. "When I was at Thanos's fortress."

Odin stood up, Gungir shining in his hand. "You have been to the fortress?"

"What is this about? Has there been an attack?" he asked, countering Odin's question with one of his own.

"You will answer my question."

He took a deep breath, restraining himself from an impertinent response. "Yes, I have."

Odin regarded him, then said, "There have been reports of small attacks made against provinces outside the realms. Mostly terrorizing the population, looting and pillaging. But the invaders spoke of a greater force to come, taunting the people with threats of enslavement. They spoke of a mighty force called the N'itouri that would destroy all who resisted."

His brain was spiraling into situations, each worse than the last.

"Tell me all you know." The Allfather sat back down, slowly. "Tell me of your time with Thanos."

He composed himself, and then began, "I was offered a force by Thanos." He could almost feel Odin's disapproval tingeing the air. He went on, "I chose the Chitauri. Their skill with weaponry was unsurpassed, and there were many of them, few of whom were clever. I chose them as my force because they would be easy to command."

The disapproval emanating from Odin was growing thicker. He shook it off. "But Thanos insisted on sending down another small force of N'itouri, not to supplement the Chitauri, but for another purpose."

"And what was this purpose?" Odin asked.

He shook his head slightly. "I do not know. I assumed that they were destroyed in the battle."

"How many?"

"Perhaps sixty. A legion, I believe."

"Tell me of them."

"Gray, scaly – not like the Chitauri, whose armor, their skin is their armor. Yellow eyes. Unlike the Chitauri, they are not so eager to bind themselves to their ships, to their weapons. They are chameleons; they change their color, and many of them have the ability to impersonate other beings – they are shapeshifters, and they are clever."

"And sixty of them are roaming Midgard."

He looked up abruptly. "No. They cannot have survived. It is impossible."

"Let us hope that you are right," Odin said gravely, then gestured at the Einherjar, who came to take him away.

* * *

The bliss of seeing him was beginning to fade, and now she was thinking. She had tried to ask him several times how he had gotten off of Asgard, but he had merely smiled and told her that he'd tell her once they got there. She tried to find out where they were going, but he said it was a surprise.

But it was him, plain and simple, and she knew that he would talk when he was ready.

After much walking, they arrived at a crumbling red brick building, clearly abandoned.

"In here?" she asked, wrinkling her nose. He laughed. "Wait and see."

He pushed the door, which opened slightly. Throwing a glance back at him, she walked through the doors. It was dark, but she could see several candles and a picnic blanket spread out.

"Are we having a midnight snack?" she asked him, eyebrows raised. He smiled at her, closing the door. "No."

She heard a faint clatter in the dark. "What was that?" she asked. "Probably rats," he responded.

"Romantic, Loki. Romantic."

She turned towards him again and gasped; he was right in front of her now, barely five inches away, the shadows from the candles dancing across his face. "That name…" he said softly.

"What?"

"That name is a curse. Do not say it again." And his eyes flickered into yellow slits, and he leered at her.

She took a hasty step back from the Not-Loki, her body quickly falling into a ready stance. "What the hell are you?" she asked, her hands balling into fists.

The Not-Loki began to shift, skin graying like a death mask, growing larger, taller.

"What do you want?" she asked again, reaching out with her telekinesis to try and find another exit.

Instead, she found minds like she had never touched before. The only word for them was _alien._

There were at least four, not including the one who had been pretending to be Loki. She cursed herself. How stupid was she? She had walked right into a trap.

"Oh, darling," Not-Loki said, (though he was looking less and less like Loki by the second) his voice rasping into a snarl, "_we want you._"

The other minds were getting closer now, and the candles had been blown out. It was now pitch black, and all she could see was glowing yellow eyes.

She thrust out her hands, one towards Not-Loki, the other towards another pair of eyes, feeling the weapons in their – were they hands? They seemed to be like daggers, but then one sparked with a purple jolt of electricity. _Great. Electrified knives._

She wasted no time, pulling one from the grip of the nearest _thing_ and slicing it across its chest, making sure to keep the handle a few centimeters away from touching her skin, so it was hovering on top of her palm. The alien's hiss of pain mattered little to her, and she thrust it though its chest, finding a small weak spot in the plating. The alien shuddered, purple sparks winging across its skin, and collapsed.

Meanwhile, the other two had come up behind her, and she bashed their heads together, but one managed to graze her with the dagger, and her left arm went numb and limp. _Crap._

Not-Loki was coming towards her now, with his yellow eyes shining, and she pulled the dagger from the chest of the felled alien and hurled it through the air at him, the fingers of her good hand weaving the telekinesis, but he knocked it to the side with his knife and continued towards her, lashing out with the tip, which struck her already numb arm, creating a large gash. Well, she assumed it was large – she still couldn't feel her arm.

The two behind her began to stir, so she threw them up into the air as high as possible, still dodging Not-Loki's swipes at her, leaping backwards and sideways, often eight feet in any direction. She heard them hit the beams and come down hard, unmoving. Three down.

Except now the two remaining pairs of eyes were gone, and she was in the dark.

She reached out, finding their minds, about ten feet away from her, one in front, one behind.

Closer… closer…

The tip of one of the daggers grazed her back, and she screamed in pain, they were much closer than she had thought. A jolt of electricity worked its way up her back, tingling, _burning,_ and she made a grasping motion with her hand through the haze of pain and _pushed_, and the jagged purple light flew away from her and into Not-Loki, who shuddered and hissed.

Then she impaled him with his own knife, turning his hand so that the knife pointed towards him. He stabbed himself, and fell over.

One left, and this one was wary now, but she hurt all over, her arm less numb but still aching, and her back burning and painful, scratches leaking blood onto her pajamas.

One more. One more.

She lunged at the alien, leaping through the air, farther and faster by aid of her powers, landing on his shoulders, and placing her hands on either side of his head.

She could feel the bones in the creature's skull, in its neck, and its mind, although she could not understand it.

A deep gash from his knife on her leg almost made her fall off, the electricity working its way into her muscles. She gritted her teeth and twisted her hands.

The alien collapsed to the floor as a _crack_ sounded through the air, trapping her beneath his large bulk. She pushed him off her roughly and stood up, almost falling down, breathing heavily.

How could she have been so stupid? She had seen the signs and had ignored them. And what the hell were these things? And why did they want her?

She was so wired up now that she definitely couldn't sleep. A small relief.

Her heart was racing. She was covered in blood and in her pajamas. In New York City. At night.

She couldn't go back to the apartment – or, at least, stay there for very long. They had found her there before. There might be more of them waiting there for her. And she couldn't endanger Paige or Rebecca by going back, either.

She walked down the street quickly, thankful that there was no one around this late.

A hotel sign flickered in the night. She slipped around to a side alley, and, tracing the wires of the security system back to their source, pulled them out. The camera drooped and the fire exit clicked open with a noticeable _thunk_.

She slipped inside and found an empty room, one with no sleeping minds inside. She busted the card reader and silently slipped inside.

Once she had relocked the door and drawn the deadbolt (after placing out the Do Not Disturb sign), she headed into the bathroom.

The woman in the mirror looked like living hell.

Her face was covered in sweat, giving her an unhealthy tinge in the cold lighting, her hair was mussed, and there were several nasty gashes down her left arm and one on her leg.

The hair had been burned off of her arm in patches, and there were bloodstains on her shirt and hands.

She inspected the cuts on her leg and arm before twisting around to see the damage to her back.

There was a nasty burn there, but only a minor scratch.

She wadded up a hand towel and pressed it to her arm, trying to stop the bleeding. When it ebbed a little, she did the same to her leg, then the other cut on her arm.

When she was satisfied that the bleeding had slowed, she returned to the bedroom and ripped apart one of the sheets, tying the cloth around her arm and leg. She grabbed another towel from the bathroom and poured cold water over it, wringing it out. She placed the towel on her back, letting out a small hiss of pain as the cool cloth met the burn.

She pulled open the minibar and grabbed a pack of M&amp;M's and a bottle of water, sliding down to the floor as she drank thirstily.

If ever there was a time to call for him, it was now… and she fingered the charm with hesitation and a certain amount of longing. But would he come? Or would the aliens try to trick her again, make her believe that they were him again if she called and expected him?

But she couldn't resist, and her trembling hands fumbled at the clasp of the chain, finally undoing it and casting it to the side, and she called out quietly, "Heimdall?"


	42. Long and Lost

**A/N: Ladies and gentlemen... I am proud to present... **

**THE ABSOLUTE #$%ING LONGEST CHAPTER I HAVE EVER WRITTEN. I HOPE YOU ALL ARE SATISFIED.**

***ANGRY TIRED GRUMBLING***

**Sorry. But this is the longest chapter so far, and I really, really, really hope you like it!**

_**Coolcat (Guest): Here it is. *offers up with tired eyes* I'm glad you are always waiting for new chapters. Makes me happy and give me a deadline!**_

_**beckywbotsford: That would sort of make sense. Too late now, haha! I prefer the ANGST.**_

_**Kate Elizabeth Black: I am glad that this is your reaction. BTW, lovely to see you. I haven't heard from you before, so I'm gonna assume you're new-ish. Hi!**_

_**gemma (Guest): Yes. Life. And school. And finals. Blech. I would rather write and give you all lovely updates every other day! But I can't. Glad you liked it. :) Thanks for your constant support.**_

**AND NOW, THE CHAPTER!**

**(and did I mention it's #$%ing long? 'Cause it is.)**

**Okay, time for me to sleep. (Apologies for poor grammar. I'm tired.)**

**AND NOW, THE CHAPTER! ACTUALLY!**

* * *

**EIGHTEEN**

* * *

_Lost in the fog, these hollow hills_

_Blood running hot, night chills_

_Without your love I'll be_

_So long and lost, are you missing me?_

_Is it too late to come on home?_

_Are all those bridges now old stone?_

_Is it too late to come on home?_

_Can the city forgive? I hear its sad song._

_\- "Long &amp; Lost," Florence and the Machine_

* * *

It was past noon before she dared to venture outside.

She doubted that the aliens would care about killing random people, but it would be easier for her to hide in a crowd, and if they valued stealth, they probably wouldn't want to be noticed.

She had spent a sleepless night at the hotel, nerves on edge, hoping that she would see a flash of light through the closed curtains and see his shadow passing by, but there had been nothing.

And with each hour that passed, the little voice inside her head telling her that he was dead grew louder and louder…

She had rinsed out her clothes with cold water and soap, getting out the obvious bloodstains and reducing the others to pale brown. The rips she couldn't do much about, but they weren't too bad and could probably be mistaken as intentional.

The bleeding had mostly stopped, but she could tell that one of the gashes on her arm and the one on her leg would need stitches.

She looked through the peephole, unlocked the deadbolt, and quickly stepped outside her room, her good hand raised in anticipation of aliens and electric knives.

When she was greeted with only silence, she hurried out via a back door.

* * *

He was sleeping when the Einherjar arrived to drag him out of his cell again.

As he was brought out of the dungeons and hustled towards the throne room, he wondered what Odin needed him for_ now._ Perhaps there had been another attack?

They walked him into the throne room, and his heart leapt up into his throat when he saw Heimdall standing beside Odin.

The Einherjar shoved him on his knees to the floor, and left quickly after a hasty hand motion of Odin's.

"You told me that they could not have survived," Odin said bluntly.

He looked up at Odin, picking himself up off his knees.

"Has something happened?" he asked, heart racing.

Odin nodded at Heimdall, who stepped towards him and said, "There has been an attack on Midgard."

_No… not again._

"When?"

"Last night," Heimdall replied, his golden eyes piercing his. "No one has died… yet."

"Who was attacked?" he asked. "If they managed to defeat the N'itouri…"

Heimdall looked at him but did not answer. Odin's pale eye regarded him closely as he said, "Heimdall could not see them."

It was like a punch in his gut; he dropped his head, trying to conceal his reaction. _No._ He had come here so that she would be safe! So that she would be out of danger! And while he rotted in a cell, she was fighting for her life against a deadly group that would stop at nothing to finish their job – to finish her.

"Until last night." Odin's voice broke through his tormented thoughts.

He raised his head, wondering if that meant what he thought it did.

"She has called for Heimdall," Odin finished, "called for you."

_Alana._

"Is she hurt?" he asked, trying to decipher Heimdall's gaze.

"That is not of concern," Odin replied.

He clenched his hands tightly. _How dare he._

"What is of concern is this group of N'itouri that _you_ brought onto Midgard."

He could feel the blood rushing hot through his veins. _Will there _ever_ be a time when she does not pay for my actions?_

"The matter will be brought before the Council shortly. Until that time, you will be confined to your chambers."

"You will not send me?" he asked, desperately, looking Odin in the eye, the news of his comparative freedom barely leaving an impression. "Father, please, do not make her pay for my errors."

"Errors?" Odin laughed. "Is that what you call the slaughter of hundreds?"

"All that I did, I did it for her!" he shouted. "It is my crime, let me pay for it!"

"If you did it for that _mortal_, then you are more foolish than I thought," Odin said sternly. "And perhaps it would make you see _reason_ if she suffered for your crimes."

"She has suffered enough on my account, Father, please - " but Odin called the Einherjar back into the room, and they dragged him back, up to his old chambers, leaving him inside and sealing the door.

He pushed at it; it did not move. His magic likewise had no effect. The balcony was much too high to even consider climbing down.

He started for the secret passage he and Thor had discovered as children when the door opened again and two Einherjar walked in.

"What?" he said harshly, whirling on them. "What do you want?"

"We are to watch you."

The rage flooded him again, but he forced it down.

He needed to go to her, needed to help her. She was fighting for her life, possibly injured, and he was expected to _wait_ while the Council chatted and the N'itouri came for her?

He walked out to his balcony, gazing out at the city, at the rainbow bridge that could lead him to her, and wished that he were there with her.

* * *

She was quickly gathering her belongings and packing.

Paige and Rebecca were out, which was for the best – she didn't want awkward questions. She would leave them a note and a check to pay off her portion of the lease, which was almost over, anyway.

When she had arrived, she had grabbed her first aid kit (which was equipped with _slightly_ more than the standard bandages and gauze) and had begun the slow process of stitching up her wounds. It wasn't pretty, and the dark thread was very visible against her skin, but at least it would hold until she got… wherever she was going.

She supposed that since they had known about her relationship with Loki, as well as where she lived, they also knew where her house was. So she couldn't go back there.

Wherever she was going, she had to leave quickly.

* * *

He paced the floor, back and forth, back and forth.

It had been an entire day and there had been no word from the Council.

And his mind was conjuring up the most horrible images from his nightmares, her cold and pale, and what would he do if she were gone? What could he do?

How could he live if she was dead, and it was his fault?

* * *

She winced as she pulled on a loose jacket. She could from the ache in her back that she was going to be black and blue in a couple of days.

She slung her backpack over her shoulder – _ow_ – and grabbed her suitcases, quickly hustling them down to the lobby, her black leather boots almost silent on the stairs.

She could feel the cold metal of her gun pressing against her back from where she had placed it, tucked into the waist of her cargo pants.

It almost felt like his hand, pressed comfortingly against the small of her back.

She shook it off – they weren't going to wait while she mooned after him.

She wasn't sure that he was coming, after all.

* * *

"Master."

The word broke into his thoughts; he turned and fixed his eyes on the priest, waiting for a further response.

"There has been a… a complication." The priest bowed his head quickly, as if afraid of his wrath. He smiled grimly. "And?"

"The… the girl, my Lord. She has… resisted them."

His eyes hardened, one huge hand clenched and unclenched.

"How many?" he bit out.

"Five, my Lord – and they are dead."

He stood up, and walked towards the priest – slowly, deadly.

"I want him. And I cannot _get_ him, unless I _have_ _her._ Do they understand this?"

The priest trembled. "They do, my Lord. They are clamoring – they wish for her blood. I tried to explain - "

He cut him off with a wave of his hand, his mind turning… "Do they have Muspellian poison?"

The priest looked confused. "I believe so, Master."

"Tell them to use it."

* * *

She didn't know where to go.

Right now, she was at a large mall in Pennsylvania, her baseball cap pulled low over her eyes as she pretended to peruse a menu in the food court. But her eyes were roving over the patrons – which one of them could be an alien in disguise?

It had been forty-eight hours since she had called for him, and he still hadn't come.

But he _couldn't_ be dead, he_ couldn't_, because she would know, she would feel it.

And if he were… then she had sent him off to his death.

_Please, Loki. Please be okay. Come back._

She had stayed at the mall for too long. She stood up and began to walk out of the food court, mingling amongst strangers, touching the minds and releasing them – human, normal, thinking about food and clothes and errands to do.

And then there was one that was not.

She froze and ducked into a store.

It was only one, she could tell, a scout, maybe? Trying to find her? She could feel him crossing to the food court, stopping where she had been, touching the menu.

"Can I help you?" a sales assistant asked. "No, thanks," she said, and left the store, walking quickly.

His head whipped up and around, towards where she was. _Damn it!_ She walked faster, wanting to get out of the mall before a fight happened, if one did occur.

He began to run in her direction. _Damn, damn, damn._ She broke into a sprint as well, but she could sense him closing in…

People were looking curiously at her, running in the mall, when the screams started.

She chanced a glance back and saw that he had shifted from his human guise to his regular form, and terrified shoppers were screaming in panic, shoving each other to get out of the way, running for the exits.

She ran harder, hoping that he wouldn't target the civilians.

_Where's my car? – First floor exit._

She was on the second.

She ran towards the railing and leaped over it, pushing down with her telekinesis as she fell towards the tiled floor. Shoppers on the lower level were looking up at her in horror.

She let herself drop lightly to the floor and ran for the exit.

A _thud_ behind her and renewed screaming told her that the alien had dropped to the first floor as well and had not stopped his pursuit.

She burst out of the doors to the mall, only to run straight into Loki's arms. "Hello, love," he said, smiling wickedly at her. His fingers clenched her arm tightly. She twisted her other arm around, pulling the gun out of her jeans, and aimed it at him.

They were locked in a close embrace now, but she couldn't shoot him – she couldn't. She knew that it wasn't him, but his eyes were the same, and she hesitated. His hand clenched harder around her arm, and she cried out in pain.

This wasn't him. He wouldn't hurt her. This was an alien who was trying to kill her.

She shot him in the head, fingers trembling on the trigger, and ran, looking back only once to see his face melt to gray.

But the one who had been chasing her had caught up to her now, the Not-Loki providing as a distraction, and slashed at her with a strange looking, three-pronged knife. No electricity this time – a small relief – but he slashed at her and she leaped back, the knife barely missing her skin.

She shot at him, but missed – the encounter with Not-Loki must have shaken her more than she had thought.

A woman screamed nearby, and her head turned, only for a second, but it was enough.

The knife slashed its way through her shirt, leaving three deep gashes on her stomach.

She screamed in pain and a small shockwave erupted from her, pushing the alien away from her and smashing him into a car. She curled up in a ball, it hurt like fire, her hands trying to stop the bleeding. She wanted to stay here and die - _just let it be over_ – but then she saw the people.

They were looking on in shock, or screaming and running, but they had no one to protect them. And if the alien turned on them…

He heaved his great gray mass up from the car and came running at her again.

"Leave me _alone_!" she shouted and thrust her hands at him, a telekinetic spike of energy driving through his armor, crushing his torso.

He fell to the ground and did not move again.

She staggered up, her hand still pressed to her side, and started walking as fast as she could towards her car.

* * *

The Einherjar pulled him back down to the throne room at around two in the morning of the third day.

The Council was in session, and had clearly been so for a while. Freyr's hair was sticking up in strange places, marking where he had run his hands through it in frustration, and Tyr looked haggard and annoyed. Odin looked weary, and even Lady Freya looked tired. Only Heimdall's eyes burned with the same fire they always did.

He caught the words _powerful _and _can't be trusted_ along with _murder_ and _it's only a matter of time_.

His heart sank as they stopped talking and turned to face him.

They all regarded him for about five seconds, and then went back to arguing. Odin flicked his hand at the Einherjar, who dragged him back out of the room.

* * *

"Did you _see_ what he looked like?" Freya argued. "Did you see his eyes?"

Tyr scoffed. "Yes, let's release him because of his _eyes_."

She ignored him and went on. "He's scared. He's more than scared – he's terrified for this girl. I believe we should let him go."

"A frightened animal is more dangerous than any other," Freyr reminded her. "If we let him go, who's to say what he will do? What if he gets there and the girl is dead?"

They all looked at Heimdall, who shook his head. "She is safe… for now."

Tyr spoke up again. "Send the Einherjar! They would get the job done – kill the N'itouri, leave, and go home. The _mortal_ is safe, but more importantly, Midgard is safe."

"Yes, but how will she know that the Einherjar are there to help?" Freya argued. "The N'itouri are tracking her, which means that the Einherjar must track her as well. Heimdall could see the destruction she wrought upon the N'itouri, even if he could not see her, and if she turns on the Einherjar…"

Tyr interrupted, "Allfather, what is your opinion?"

Odin had been sitting and watching the argument, listening carefully to each point made and each rebuttal, but he himself had said nothing.

He sighed and stood up. "Let us hear from him."

He banged Gungir once on the floor and the Einherjar brought Loki in again.

It was true, what Freya had said. There was a look of haunting desperation in his eyes as the Einherjar pushed him in front of the Council. The old, mischievous gleam was hidden deep, the anger present but controlled – but most of all, Odin saw the pain.

"Loki?" Freya's voice cut in; his eyes flickered to her and stayed there. "We are at an impasse, it seems, and we have need of your council."

Tyr began to make a protest, but Freyr signaled for him to be quiet, watching his sister intently.

"You mock me." His eyes remained fixed on hers as his quiet words reached their ears.

"No."

"If you do not intend to send me - "

"That remains to be seen," Freyr cut in.

Did he see a glimmer of hope rising in Loki's eyes, quickly suppressed?

Freya leaned forwards. "However, what we need is an honest, unbiased opinion. We need the absolute truth."

Tyr scoffed quietly to himself; Loki's eyes flicked to him, then back to Freya.

"What do you require?" The tone was bland, the words unassuming. "Tell us of the mortal," Freya responded. "What is she like?"

Odin saw him hesitate, before he replied, "Strong."

There was silence, and then Freyr asked, "Is that all?"

"All that matters in the nature of this discussion. She will not hesitate to take down the Einherjar along with the N'itouri if she has the slightest cause to believe they are targeting her. And she is capable of it."

Tyr sat up. "You overheard our conversation?"

The look Loki shot him was a familiar one – Odin had often seen him throw it at Thor when he was acting foolishly.

"I know what you argue about. I can guess the points you make, the rebuttals that others will make in response. I can assume that you will have suggested sending the Einherjar instead of me, and I can assure you that it _will not work_."

Tyr gripped the arm of his chair.

"She is scared," Loki went on. "She has defeated several soldiers, but she will know that more will come. And because she is wary, she will be doubly cautious, she will be on her guard for alien minds, and she may not distinguish between friend and foe when the Einherjar begin to attack the N'itouri."

"Her powers are strong," Heimdall agreed. "I have seen as much."

Odin sat there, just looking at Loki, the desperation and fear in his eyes, and sighed.

"Send him," he said dismissively, and motioned for the Einherjar to take him away. Heimdall followed and the small party left the room.

Tyr shook his head. "That was foolish, your Majesty."

"Yes," he said softly. "Perhaps it was."

* * *

She had run out of gas.

She cursed and slammed her hand on the steering wheel. She was in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but an industrial warehouse about six hundred feet away.

She had been looking for a S.H.I.E.L.D. safe house – she knew that it was _somewhere_ around here, but she wasn't sure if it still existed or not. She rested her head on the steering wheel, exhausted.

Getting out of the car, she grabbed her first aid kit and poured rubbing alcohol over the gashes on her stomach, hissing in pain. She stitched them up and bandaged them. They were deep, but had missed her vital organs. Three more scars.

She pulled out her phone and pulled up the map with the S.H.I.E.L.D. safe houses on it. There was a blue dot not too far away, but it would take at least half an hour to get there.

S.H.I.E.L.D. had set up the safe houses a long time ago. There were hundreds all over the country. They looked normal on the outside, and oftentimes, neighbors didn't know that anyone lived there. A permanent "For Sale" sign hung outside, but both the phone number and real estate company were fake.

However, the houses were a great help to S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, either undercover or looking for a place to hide or to heal. They were fully stocked with weapons and medical supplies, as well as tanks of gas.

She needed a tank of gas.

And a proper bed wouldn't be so bad either…

The screen on her phone went fuzzy and she sighed in exasperation, dropping it back in her pocket.

She had shouldered her backpack and was starting off in the direction of the safe house when she heard a scream from inside the warehouse.

Children's screams.

Had the N'itouri followed her? It was probable. Was it a trap? Likely. But she couldn't walk away, she _couldn't_, because if there was even the _slightest_ chance that children were in danger and needed help, it was her obligation to do so.

She dropped her backpack and ran towards the building, pulling out her gun as she did so, checking the clip.

* * *

No Einherjar rode with him – Odin knew that he would not try to escape.

He urged his horse down the Bifrost, the colors trembling and shimmering beneath him, towards Heimdall, towards her.

He dismounted and rushed towards Heimdall. "Is she safe?" he asked him urgently.

Heimdall nodded. "For now."

He inclined his head in thanks and stood before the sky window.

"Be warned, Loki, son of Laufey," Heimdall said. "The conditions of your release are dependent upon your quick return. The Einherjar will be sent if you try to escape."

"I will not."

Heimdall inserted his sword partially and said, "They will not be sent for you."

He whipped around. "You would use her as _bait_ for me?"

Heimdall only looked at him. "Let us hope that it will not be necessary."

And before he had time to protest, Heimdall inserted his sword and the Bifrost rumbled to life, the light streaming around him.

_Please be safe._

* * *

Of course it was a trap.

They had been waiting for her, inside. Yes, there were children, but she touched their minds and realized that they were aliens in the guise of children.

She shot them both after they shifted and slashed at her with those strange three-pronged knives, but they didn't cut her, a small relief.

She felt more approaching, three – no, four, coming towards her, but these ones didn't have knives. Instead, they had a sort of gun strapped to their arms.

She ran through the corridors of the warehouse, which was larger than she had imagined from the outside, but she could hear their feet pounding, getting closer.

They turned the corner, and, spotting her, unleashed a hail of bolts towards her. She threw up her hands and the bolts deflected back, some onto the ceiling, which trembled and shook, and some ricocheting off the walls and striking the aliens.

This took out all but one, who followed her into a large room with high rafters, howling some words in his native language that she was glad she could not understand.

She dropped a piece of the roof on him, flicking it to the side as she prepared to strike the killing blow, but she heard the sound of running feet – _not more, please - _ and retreated to a wall of the room where she would not be seen by the door.

The alien had the advantage of seeing who was coming, and it shifted.

* * *

He landed on the middle of a highway, the knots searing themselves onto the asphalt. Her car was stopped in the middle of the road, about twenty feet away.

He spun around – where was she?

A crash and a howl came from an abandoned building nearby, which shook visibly, dust rising up from the roof.

He crashed through the doors, running down the hallway, listening for a voice, a scream, and his heart was frantic at the thought of what could have happened to her.

He could hear the sounds of combat coming from further down the hall, and clutched his dagger more firmly in his hand.

He burst into the room, ready for a fight, then stopped short as he saw a figure curled up on the floor next to the wall, dressed in black, her brown hair covering her face.

He ran to her, bending down, heart racing – _his nightmares all over again_ \- and gently brushed the hair from her face. His heart sank as he saw her face, battered and bruised and covered in blood. She was struggling to breathe, and her eyes fluttered open, finally focusing on him. "You came," she whispered hoarsely, her fingers trying to reach for him. "You came..."

"Shhh, don't try to talk. You're going to be all right, understand?" His fingers clutched hers. "Hold on, Alana."

She tried to smile, then coughed. "You came… too late."

"No." He held her hand tighter, struggling not to cry. "No, Alana, I couldn't – I tried - "

"This is your fault," she whispered. "Your fault." And then there was a _crack_, and her head jerked, a circle of blood in the center of her forehead showing the path of the bullet, and she slumped to the floor.

"No!" he shouted. "No!" Her sightless eyes stared up at him, the gray of the clouds before a storm, now blank and empty. _My fault._

And then the cold metal of the gun dug into the back of his neck. "Stand up," a voice ordered. "Get away from it."

That voice… "Alana?" he croaked. He looked back down at her body, which was graying and changing. He stood up in horror as her face changed, her eyes turned a dim yellow, as her skin grew scaly. _N'itouri._

"Let down your barriers, or I'll shoot you in the head," the voice continued. "Don't try to trick me again."

He let out a deep breath, relaxing his mind. "Alana - "

"Nod if you understand."

He nodded.

"Good." And then he was flipped around and shoved up against the wall, the muzzle of the gun pressed to his forehead, and he was looking into her eyes again, hardened gray, her hair coated with dust and her face streaked with dirt.

"Barriers down. Now."

He stared into her eyes – _thank the gods_ \- and did as she asked, pulling down his walls, letting her into his mind.

He saw her eyes flash green as she touched his mind briefly, for a few seconds, and then withdrew.

She lowered the gun. "Loki?" she asked tentatively. He touched his fingers to her face, running them down her cheeks, then into her hair, and he pulled her to him, his arms wrapped tightly around her, pressing his lips to her hair, a feeling he had missed – oh, how he had missed her.

He released her, holding her at arms' length, and she punched him in the chest. "Where the _hell_ have you been? I was waiting for _three days._"

His eyes roved over her, hardening as he caught the jagged stitches in her arm, the slashes in her shirt that showed the white bandages beneath. "What happened?"

She glared at him. "What do you _think_ happens when you're fighting off aliens for _three days,_ Loki?"

"They _hurt _you?" he snarled, his fingers clenching the dagger.

"At least I can count on _them_ to show up!" she snapped, then paused, tiredly running a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's just…" she inhaled sharply and he saw the tears sparkling in her eyes. "I thought you were dead," she whispered. "I thought I would never see you again."

He pulled her to him again, feeling her shaking in his arms. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so, so sorry, Alana."

She stiffened suddenly. "There are more of them."

He let go of her and turned, facing the door, dagger ready and bloodlust in his heart. They had hurt her, they had hunted her, and for that, they were going to die.

* * *

They were coming in waves, pouring through the door that was the only entrance. And she was weary, and bleeding, and hurt, but he was with her again, standing at her side, and she _could not_ let him get hurt.

The aliens let loose with a barrage of energy bolts, but she had thrust up a shield and they couldn't break it. They were smart, however, and instead of continuing to fire, they began to press on the barrier, making it harder and harder for her to keep it up.

"Loki," she gasped, "I can't keep them out for much longer."

He nodded grimly and the barrier collapsed.

When it collapsed, many of the aliens that had been leaning hard on it fell to the ground. She took them out with one swift stroke, firing her gun before they hit the ground and guiding the bullet, which curved, entering and exiting the aliens in quick succession.

The aliens immediately concentrated their firepower on Loki, but it was of a different sort than the type they had focused on her. These bolts of energy were blue, instead of purple, and she shuddered to think what they would do.

He thrust his hand out; the green light flashed and the bolts dissipated.

She shot six more and dropped another rafter on another two.

The chaos and the noise was supreme, but she never dared to lose sight of him for a second – he would _not_ be taken from her again.

Not again.

And then she was occupied with eight more, surrounding her and concentrating their fire, she pulled up a bubble to protect herself but it would not take them long to penetrate it.

Loki's dagger flashed and three fell over dead; she nodded in thanks and he decapitated another.

His face was hard and his features were cold as he whirled through the ranks, green light strangling some to death and his dagger slashing and stabbing others.

And then a flash of blue light enveloped him and he fell to the floor.

"NO!" she screamed, and pushed her hands towards him; the aliens went flying into the walls and she stood protectively in front of him, destroying all who tried to get past her.

They _would not touch him._

* * *

He hurt all over. His muscles were paralyzed – it must have been a stun blast, and he could do nothing but watch as she defended him, there on the ground.

There were so many coming towards her, though, and he tried to clench his muscles, to stagger to his feet and fight for her until he died, but he was frozen, helpless, on the ground.

One of the soldiers slipped by Alana's guard and came up, right in front of him, holding a silver-bladed knife to his throat. He tried to move his hand again, in which his dagger was still clenched, but he couldn't.

And he could hear the beat of his heart, slower, slower, becoming paralyzed too, and he couldn't leave her here, he _couldn't._

_I'm sorry, Alana._

* * *

Alana stabbed three soldiers at once with their own knives, but more were coming towards her, twenty at the least. She could not hold them off forever, but she had to keep them away from Loki. She didn't know if he was alive or not, but they would _not_ get any closer to him.

She chanced a glance back at him and saw the soldier above him, the lines of blood trickling down his neck and she screamed, pure fury and rage, the noise ringing throughout the room, and as she thrust out her hands, a shockwave erupted from her body, blasting all of the aliens through the walls.

The sound abruptly stopped and she crooked one finger and one of them flew towards her, and she held him up in the air. He dangled in the air, gasping and hissing, and she walked closer to him, speaking in a low, deadly voice.

"You don't touch him. Ever."

It hissed at her. _"We shall do what we wish with that traitor. You will not stop us."_

She cocked her head. "I already have."

She released him, and he fell to the ground, gasping. Those pale, reptile-like eyes found hers, and she smiled. "Go back to your leader. Tell him of the woman you failed to stop. Beg him to let you live. You have ten seconds to get out of my sight before I destroy you. Go."

The words rang, and the alien scuttled, hurrying out of the room.

She ran to his side, kneeling down beside him. "Loki? Loki. Look at me." One hand pressed against his wrist, searching for a pulse, the other wiped a trickle of blood from his neck. There was a thin cut there from the N'itouri's nail, but she had pushed him away before he could do any real damage.

_I'm all right,_ he tried to say, but his mouth didn't seem to be working, either.

His eyes looked blankly up at her. "No. No, no, no, no, stop it, Loki! Wake up!" A tear fell onto his cheek as she shook him. "Wake up!"

_Don't cry, Alana. _

"You are _not_ leaving me here alone again. Loki! Loki, look at me."

Her hand pressed against his cheek. _I love you,_ he tried to say, but no noise passed his lips.

"All right," she said, breathing heavily, "all right. It's okay. You're gonna be okay, Loki, don't give up."

She looked down at her hands, stained with his blood. Her eyes widened and she started to fumble with the straps of his armor. "You think this would be easier to get off," she panted. "How do you do this every day? Hey! Loki, look at me, okay? You're all right. You're gonna be all right."

She stripped his chest plate off of him, and grabbed the dagger still clutched in his hand. She sliced through the layers of leather and cloth, exposing his chest. "Loki? Listen to me. This is going to hurt."

She placed her hands on his chest, over his heart, and he screamed, wordlessly, she was tearing through his chest, he could feel her grip around his heart and squeeze.

"Breathe," she ordered, "Loki, come on! Fight!"

She tightened her grip around his heart and let go, again, again. "Please," she whispered. "Please, Loki."

He gasped, his back arching, as his heart restarted, and her hands flew up, away from him.

He rolled over, coughing, and she was there, her hands on his cheeks, her forehead pressed to his. "Loki! Loki, talk to me."

"Hello, love," he said, a little raspily. She enveloped him in a crushing hug that knocked the wind out of him. "Gently, please, I think I cracked a rib." He winced. "Or two."

"Sorry, sorry…" She let go of him and peered into his eyes. "Are you hurt?" he asked, seeing a scratch down her cheek, reaching up to touch it. "No, no, I'm fine, Loki, don't worry about me."

She sat back on her knees, wiping her forehead. He tried to sit up, but winced, and she pushed him back down. "Lie down. You basically just died, okay? You need to rest."

He smiled wearily at her. "I missed you."

She smiled back faintly. "I missed you, too." She let out a little laugh. "Some reunion."

He rested his head on the floor. "Not quite what I expected."

She nodded in agreement. "Not exactly, no."

She took his hand in hers, lacing her warm fingers through his, studying the back of his hand.

"I'm sorry, Alana."

She looked up at him. "It's all right." He tried to protest; she cut him off. "We're both okay. That's all that matters."

"You should never have been hurt at all. It was my fault, all of this." He touched the stitches on her arm. "All of this."

She was silent, then asked, "Can you stand? I think we should get out of here."

With her help, he was able to struggle to his feet.

Once he was standing, his hands traced their way down her warm cheeks again, studying her face.

She let out a sound of exasperation and pulled him close, kissing him fiercely, her hot lips pressed against his, her hands in his hair. He inhaled her scent and kissed her back, his hands falling down to her waist and pulling her close to him. She flinched and recoiled from him, and he looked at her in concern. "Alana?"

She looked pale, all of a sudden, an unhealthy sheen on her face.

"Alana?" he asked. "Are you all right?"

She nodded slowly. "It's just – a scratch." She winced again, pressing a hand to her side. "Well, three. They're just burning a bit. It's probably the alcohol, it's fine."

"Let me see," he insisted.

She pulled up her shirt and he gently peeled the bandages aside. He inhaled sharply. "Alana, when did this happen?" He touched the skin around the wounds; it was burning hot.

"I… can't remember," she murmured. "This morning?"

She swayed a little. "I don't feel so good," she said.

He steadied her in his arms. "Alana. Alana. Listen to me. Is there anywhere with medical supplies nearby? Do you know?"

"Safe house," she murmured, leaning against him. "Half an hour. Check my… phone."

He rested a hand on the back of her forehead; it was hot and clammy. He looked hard at her eyes, and inhaled again when he noted the slight reddening around the iris. _Muspellian poison. _

He eased her to the floor, heart racing – this wasn't the type of illness he could treat with magic. The poison was rare and the cure only legend.

"No…" Alana muttered. "Loki… they're coming. S.H.I.E.L.D. They're coming."

His head snapped up. "Which way?" he asked. "Alana! Which way?"

His question was quickly answered when a section of the wall dropped away and he saw the shapes of two people, a man and a woman, standing there.

The man immediately drew his gun and fired. "You!" he yelled. He stepped into the light and fired again and Loki's heart grew cold. "You," he breathed, and hurled his dagger at the figure.

Alana threw up a hand and cried "No!" The dagger and the bullet froze in midair and dropped to the floor.

"You should be dead," Loki snarled.

Coulson, his face full of the same hardness, replied with, "I could say the same about you."

* * *

**A/N: DUN DUN DUN...**

**Going to bed now. Night.**


	43. Miracle

**A/N: Hey everybody! I'm alive! And this story is not gone, I promise. Sorry about the delay, I was separated from my computer for a while and unable to write. But I hope you like this chapter! Not as long as the last, but still a hefty 4,000 words.**

**gemma (Guest): Thank you! Hope you like this one just as well. Your reviews always make me so happy. :)**

**x (Guest): That's a high compliment! Thank you so much and welcome to the family.**

**Devon (Guest): I'm glad you like it. Don't worry, there's still a lot to come!**

**And now, presenting, CHAPTER NINETEEN - a medical drama.**

**(Really, ER's got nothing on this.) :D**

* * *

**NINETEEN**

* * *

_Talk to me girl, tell me your lies  
Let your secrets have no ties  
'Cause the light will never shine on this heart of mine  
And all the love we sacrificed  
Look at all of the damage you have done in time  
You can see what a savage I've become, in my eyes  
If you look in my heart you will find_

_No love, no light, no end inside_  
_And I'm looking for a miracle_  
_And I'm looking for a miracle_  
_But I hope, I pray, and I will fight_  
_'Cause I'm looking for a miracle_  
_'Cause I'm looking for a miracle_

_\- "Miracle," Hurts_

* * *

_"__You should be dead," Loki snarled._

_Coulson, his face full of the same hardness, replied with, "I could say the same about you."_

"Step away from her," the woman said sharply, her hands wrapping more tightly around her gun.

"What did you do to her?" Coulson asked, his eyes like steel.

"What _I've_ done to her?" Loki roared. "YOU WIPED HER MIND!"

The two men were face to face now, barely inches apart. Alana struggled to her feet behind Loki. "Stop. Both of you."

She pushed her way in between the two men, her hand resting warningly on Loki's chest. "Agent Coulson," she asked weakly, "It appears that I…" she winced, "am in need of medical assistance."

"It's Director Coulson now," the woman said.

"She doesn't need _your_ help," Loki snarled, supporting her weight as she leaned against him – he could feel her weakening, but still trying to stand.

"What did you do to her?" the woman asked again.

He glared at them bitterly, but he could feel her hands, burning and clammy, and he bit out, "She's been poisoned."

"Get her to the Bus, May," Coulson said, his gun still trained on Loki's head.

Loki glared at Coulson. "She – is _not_ – going with you."

"Then I'm going to die, Loki," Alana cut in tiredly. "It's all right."

He turned his attention back to her, a hand wrapping protectively around her wrist. "Alana. This is the man who _wiped your mind._ I am not letting you go _anywhere_ with him."

She looked at Coulson pensively. "No. I'll - " she inhaled sharply – " I'll be okay."

Her eyes flashed pale blue, and she smiled a bit weakly. "He knows how it feels now."

Coulson stiffened a little.

Alana inhaled sharply, knees buckling – he steadied her in his arms as she slumped against him. "Ow," she muttered weakly.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't shoot you, right now, and take her with me."

Alana glared at him. "Because then I'd shoot _you_." She let out another noise of pain.

He smiled at Coulson, coldly. "Do you remember last time, _Agent_? What I did when you were done with her, had cast her away?"

He remembered the way it had hurt her, the memories, how he had carried her upstairs, how her hands had trembled and how she had screamed. "If you think I am leaving her with _you_, _again_, you are _sorely_ mistaken."

"You're a murderer," Coulson said bluntly. "And I didn't really enjoy being dead."

"Mmm. And I suppose, since you've been tracking her… you wouldn't enjoy it if she were dead, either."

Coulson's eyes narrowed slightly. "Is that a threat?"

Alana moaned a little. By now she was too far gone to keep track of the conversation, and he burned with anger and fear.

"No. A fact. She's been poisoned. Muspellian poison. The cure is only found in legend, and she _will_ _die._" He let out a deep breath. "But I have an idea that could save her."

Coulson scoffed. "Really? I thought you would have a better plan than _that_."

Alana was shaking now, feverishly, sweat dripping down her face – he was holding her up, now. Her eyes rolled up in her head and she collapsed.

"We don't have time for this!" he snapped. "If you want her alive, you _will_ let me go with her."

Coulson didn't budge. "We have a fair amount of medical technology on the Bus. Why does she need _you?_"

He breathed, in and out, trying to control himself. _Control or she will die._

"Muspellian poison is liquid fire. It is burning her up from the inside, do you understand? And there is only one legend that tells of Muspell, one legend with no name for a cure."

"May, take her to the Bus," Coulson said.

The woman beside him moved forwards, but he could _not_ let them take her.

"You know what happened after you wiped her memory." It was a statement.

Coulson said nothing.

"And if she _dies_…" He let the words hang in the air around them.

Coulson's eyes narrowed again. "That _is_ a threat."

He closed his eyes for one second. "You need her. And I might be able to save her. And every second that we stand here, she is _dying!_"

The room was filled with silence. Alana was still shaking in his arms, her eyes moving rapidly under their lids. _Please…_ The word was on the tip of his tongue, and he struggled with it, fighting it, _they took her from me._

Coulson grudgingly lowered his gun, at a motion from him, the woman did the same.

Coulson pointed at him. "Don't think that this is over."

He raised his head, gave one harsh smile. "It isn't."

He swept her up in his arms, wincing slightly as his slowly healing ribs ached in protest. She lay limp in his arms, eyes closed, skin pale. Only her breathing indicated she was alive, breathing that was shallow and rapid.

_Hold on, Alana. Please._

* * *

She was trapped in her house, and it was burning.

Flames rose up around her, and the air was hot and thick and full of smoke, and she coughed, an arm raised over her face to protect her from the heat.

She heard voices and tried to yell for help, but the people – where were they? – seemed to be having an argument, voices raised loud, and they couldn't hear her.

Wait. Where was Loki?

She had to find him, they had to get out of the house, they had to run!

She tried to yell his name, but coughed – the smoke in the air prevented her from speaking.

And the fire was upon her now, the heat rushing through her, the burning in her veins began to spread, white-hot, and she screamed in pain, she was on fire.

* * *

He laid her gently on the operating table in the lower levels of the airplane that Coulson had brought them to.

She screamed, writhing on the table, her back arching.

"What's going on?" an agent asked, walking in the door – a young one, about the same age as Alana, perhaps a little younger. Her dark eyes looked at him suspiciously. "Coulson isn't explaining why we have the asshole who destroyed New York on our plane."

"I have no time for your insults," he said sharply. "Are you the doctor?"

Her eyes were wary. "No. Our doctors… aren't around."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Did Coulson send you to help?"

She did not give a response.

He sighed in exasperation and turned back to Alana, struggling on the table. _Stay strong._

He flicked his hand at the table, the green magic surging around her, securing her so that she could not hurt herself.

"Where do you keep your needles?" he barked.

"Why do you want to know?"

He let out a noise of exasperation and whirled on her. "Listen to me. This is a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent! And she is _dying_, do you understand?" He ran a hand through his hair. "I know what I have done, but _please_."

His eyes met hers. "She needs your help."

She sighed. "Fine. But not because of you." She pointed to a cabinet. "The syringes are in there. I think."

He quickly opened the cabinet and grabbed one, ripping open the sterile plastic covering. "Can you get a …" he looked around, spotting the IV, "I need you to set up an IV for her and – do you have blood in here?"

"Why, are you a vampire?" she asked sarcastically, but did as he asked.

The blue crept up his skin and when he could feel that he had completely changed into his Jotunn form, he ripped off his gauntlet and rolled up his sleeve, letting out a small hiss as he pushed the needle into his vein.

Dark blue blood filled the chamber of the syringe as he pulled up on the plunger.

He pulled the needle out of his arm and let the blue fade away.

The woman stood up, having pricked Alana's finger with a small device. She regarded it for a second, then said, "She's AB."

She got out the corresponding blood bag. "What now?"

He laid the syringe on the side table. "When I tell you, I need you to inject her with this, right below the IV port."

She nodded and stepped to the side.

He rolled up her ripped, blood-stained shirt, exposing the wounds, and the woman sucked in a breath. "Oh my god…"

It had gotten worse; there was no denying it. The stitches had dissolved, the wounds were bright and angry, and there were faint lines of red tracing out from them, reaching towards her heart.

He gave a silent apology for the pain he was about to inflict on her.

"Now," he ordered, and she injected Alana with the syringe containing his blood. A small black burn spread from where the needle touched her arm.

The blue crept up her veins, and she let out a small moan of relief.

* * *

Suddenly she could feel his cool fingers wrapped around her arm. She let out a sigh of relief. He was here, and the fire was lessening, but the cold of his hands began to spread quickly, and now her arm was burning with cold but her body was burning with fire, and it hurt, it hurt, it_ hurt._

* * *

"Start the blood," he told the woman, who attached the tube to the IV port and opened it. The red chased away the blue, following it up, but his blood had a head start and was making its way towards the red streaks on her stomach.

_I'm sorry, Alana. Forgive me._

He let the blue creep up his fingers, then brushed his forefinger across the first wound, as lightly as he could, barely touching her.

The effect was immediate. The wound smoked and burned black, and she screamed in pain.

He gritted his teeth. She turned her head to the side and let out a small moan, her breathing rapid.

He touched the second gash and she cried out again.

"What are you _doing_?" the woman asked furiously.

"Sealing the wounds!" he snapped back.

"But the poison's still inside her!"

He brushed his finger along the third wound and she screamed again, struggling futilely on the table, a tear slipping out of her eye.

"I have to chase it down on both ends," he told her. _I hope._

And indeed, the blue was spreading from the gashes and down from her heart. It touched the red and the lines turned an angry purple.

_Please let this work._

* * *

Fire and ice were warring their way around her.

She could feel the cold making its way down through her chest, and the fire coursing up to meet it, and when they touched she screamed in pain.

The fire burned hot and the ice burned cold, and they hissed as they met and grappled with each other, steam and smoke enveloping her.

It felt as if she was being ripped apart, burning and freezing and dying, again and again and again.

And then she could feel his hands, touching her stomach, and the ice flowed from that point and she screamed again, feeling her skin smoking, burning.

The ice was countering the fire now on both sides, and the fire was growing less and less, but the ice was swarming now, covering her, smothering her. She was shivering with cold now, cold that burned inside of her.

Except now there was another feeling, chasing away the ice coming down from her chest, a relief, a stability.

It chased away the ice, which hissed and tried to stake its claim, but this new, warmer feeling continued, driving the ice away, slowly melting it down, eradicating it from inside her.

* * *

He stared at the marks he had made on her skin, three ugly black lines streaking their way across her stomach.

The purple lines had faded now; turning merely to blue, but those had slowly faded as well, as the human blood chased the ice away.

The poison was gone now, but at what cost?

He rested a hand on her forehead; it was cold now, and clammy. She shivered on the table below him, and her hands trembled. She was breathing slowly now, shallowly.

The woman disconnected the IV from the port in her arm, then examined the monitor.

"Her temperature's dropped to eighty-eight," she said beside him. "I think that means she has hypothermia."

She passed him several blankets. "She probably needs to be kept warm."

He took the blankets and laid them over her, brushing the hair out of her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to her.

The woman cleared her throat and said, "I'm just gonna… leave now."

* * *

"What the _hell_ is going on?" Skye asked May.

May just looked at her with that unfathomable glance of hers. "You probably should talk to Coulson about that."

"We've got the guy who _killed_ Coulson on our plane, and it sort of looks like he's in _love_ with a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Who is she?"

"Let me put it this way," said May. "She was on the Index."

* * *

Coulson collapsed into his chair.

It had been a very exhausting day.

First, they had got wind of Cooper. After searching for a while, they had tracked her to New York City, and had been about to make contact when she disappeared. The newspaper headlines the next days were about the discovery of alien bodies in a New York warehouse. They had more recently learned of an alien attack in a Pennsylvania shopping mall and a woman who was being chased by them.

A slightly blurry picture on the front page of a local newspaper had showed a brown haired woman, her eyes a flash of yellow, facing off against a hulking gray _thing._

Of course it was Cooper. And somehow she had gotten her powers back.

There was such a shortage of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents that he had reluctantly been searching for her. He could not deny that her abilities would be useful to them in the fight against HYDRA. And if HYDRA had gotten to her first…

Her virtual erasure from S.H.I.E.L.D. before the Battle of New York and her high classification had meant that she had been protected more than most during HYDRA's search for gifteds.

And then, they'd tracked her here and found corpses of about forty aliens, a poisoned Cooper, and _him_.

His hands clenched involuntarily.

The god who had _killed_ him was on his _plane_. With Cooper.

And the feeling in his stomach when he had looked into her eyes (his eyes), when she had said, _"He knows how it feels now"_ had brought back so many memories that he had tried as best he could to push away.

_"__Let me die!"_

And he remembered hearing her scream, years ago, he remembered the pain in Loki's face as he leaned against the wall in his cell, and he rubbed his head.

If he could go back, would he still do it?

He didn't know.

He massaged his temples again and pulled up the feed for the cameras down in the lab.

Loki was pacing around the room, back and forth, back and forth.

She was lying on the operating table, blankets covering her and her head turned to the side.

He rewound the camera feed by swiping left with his finger, watching the scene unfold.

* * *

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

She heard a noise, felt soft blankets against her skin – she was so cold. She could feel her hands trembling.

_Beep._

Where was she? What had happened? Coulson – something with Coulson –

_A hand reaching for hers, a voice crying her name. "Loki!" she yells. And then a sharp pain in her neck, the world fading…_

She inhaled sharply.

_"__They're going to erase your memory," he says, and she can see him trying not to cry. His hand grips hers, their fingers entwined for the last time – _

She tensed under the blankets.

_Beep. _

_Beep._

_So much pain, everywhere – surrounding her, incasing her, through her mind, stabbing through her, ripping through her mind, again, again, and she screams, she doesn't want him to leave her, she can hear his voice, "Hold on, I love you, I love you," and she calms but it hurts _so _much._

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

The beeps were getting faster, and she can hear the rustle of clothing as someone crosses opposite her.

_"__Commencing mind wipe."_

_And then a flurry of images – her, sixteen, jaw opening in disbelief as she realizes what she can do; her, in her cell, crying in the night; her, at S.H.I.E.L.D. for the first time, locking away her heart; Loki, lying in a hospital bed glaring at her; Loki, his hands touching hers in the garden; and him playing the piano and kissing her and holding her on the roof through the night and sparring with her and kissing her fiercely and sweetly and the whispers and the laughs and the agents ripping them apart – _

_And then nothing._

She opened her eyes in a haze of panic, and screamed.

Coulson was standing over her, concern in his eyes – _he calls her, "Cooper, we need you to come in" – and Loki says, "They're going to wipe your memory," and she screams in pain as they invade her mind._

She screamed, they were going to wipe her again, wipe him away, _no, no, please no_ and the beeps were faster in the background now, one after the other, _beepbeepbeepbeep_ and someone snarled, "Out of the way!" and he was there again, standing next to her. "Alana," he said urgently, "you're safe. You're safe." His hand cups her face. "You're safe."

And now she was not screaming anymore but she was crying, and he held her hand tightly. "You're safe," he whispers. "They won't hurt you again."

* * *

She fell asleep quickly after that, the beeping of the heart rate monitor slowing down. He touched her face gently, then turned back to Coulson, his face hardening.

"What did you do?"

He had been dozing in one of the chairs in the lab when he had awoken to her screaming.

She had been in a blind panic, terrified and shaking, her eyes fixed on Coulson.

Coulson shook his head. "Nothing. Her heart rate was going up before she opened her eyes."

He turned to look at her, then turned back to Coulson. "You must have done something."

Coulson's eyes hardened. "She opened her eyes and looked at me, and screamed."

It finally dawned on him, _how could I have been so stupid?_

"She was remembering the last time you took her to a hospital," he said harshly. "What happened there. And then when she opened her eyes, _you_ were there."

Coulson stepped closer to him. "I did what I had to do."

Loki sneered at him. "So did I. You don't know what I do, _Agent._" He spat the last word bitterly. "You don't know how she would collapse from the flashbacks, how much _pain_ she was in. How she would scream."

"I do."

He looked at Coulson, reading the tired look in his eyes. "Oh, I see. Fury had to bring you back _somehow_, didn't he?"

Coulson's jaw clenched. "Enough."

Loki continued. "And whatever he must have done… he must have wiped _you_ after he was done." He smiled tightly. "Did you enjoy it as much as she did?"

_"__Let me die!"_

Coulson turned away from him.

"I knew Cooper for a long time," he said quietly. "It was so easy for her to read people, even without her telepathy. And she was so trusting." He snorted. "Look how she trusted _you._"

Loki smiled tightly. "Is there something you wish to say to me, Agent?"

Coulson turned back to him. "What happened to her was your fault. All of it. You should have stayed the hell away from her."

"My fault?" he hissed. "Was I the one that wiped her mind?"

"You were the reason why!" Coulson shouted. "She was twenty-one, she was starved for affection – that's what S.H.I.E.L.D. does to you, it either isolates you forever or it makes you desperate! And _you_, you could have stayed away and none of this would have happened."

He stepped close to Coulson. "Then you should have _killed_ me. Is that what you wish had happened? You would have carried on as you were, no battle, no _Avengers_," he spat. "You should have killed me."

Coulson just looked at him. "I should've."

He turned and left the lab.

* * *

There was a stabbing pain in her side. She opened her eyes – she was covered with blankets, in a white room filled with medical equipment – and caught Loki's eyes.

He gave her a tiny smile. "Are you feeling all right?"

She tried to shift herself into a sitting position, but hissed in pain as the aching feeling shot up her side. "What happened?" she asked, sinking back onto the pillows in resignation.

She pushed back the blankets and pulled up her shirt, seeing the bandages.

"Muspellian poison," Loki said grimly. "The N'itouri's blades must have been coated in it."

"Is that what those aliens were?" she asked, pulling the tape off of her skin. She winced a little. "How did you get it out?"

She pulled the bandages off the wound, inhaling sharply as she saw the burns. "Oh my god."

She looked up at him – his eyes were sad. "Loki, what happened?"

He sat down on the side of her bed and gently began placing the bandages back over the burns. "I happened." He sighed. "Muspell was the land of fire. It is believed that the mixing of the fire of Muspell and the ice of Niflheim formed the first Frost Giant, Ymir."

She looked a little confused, but motioned for him to go on.

"And Muspellian poison is rare, and it is liquid fire. It would have burned you up from the inside." He looked at the small black burn on her arm. "I thought that perhaps since I am descended from Ymir…" and he let the blue course through his fingers, showing them, "that I could chase the fire away."

He looked at her. "I burned you with cold as they had burned you with fire."

She furrowed her brow. "But I've touched you before and I haven't been burned. In your Jotunn form, I mean."

He smiled sadly. "I shielded you from me. A thin layer of magic let us touch, but…" He gestured to her bandages. "You see what it means to truly touch me."

She met his eyes and smiled. "Thank you."

He looked at her in astonishment. "I just scarred you, Alana. For life. And you _thank _me?"

She stretched her arms above her head. "Well, it sounds like I'd be dead, otherwise." She grinned. "I think I'll take the scars." She winced a little. "Ow." She gestured at the IV port. "Do I still need this?"

"I don't think so."

"Pass me some gauze, would you?" she asked, and gently eased it out of her arm, wincing slightly. He handed her the gauze and she pressed down on the wound. "What's this?" she asked, gesturing to the small black burn on her arm.

"I had to inject you with my blood."

She looked up at him and smiled. "Does this mean I'm going to turn blue too?"

He shook his head. "I think not."

A small silence filled the room as she attempted to bandage her arm with one hand.

He sighed. "Just let me do it." He held the gauze in place and taped it to her arm. "There."

She kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you."

He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, his hand cupping her face, but her eyes were slightly distracted.

"Is Coulson here?" she asked. "I'd like to talk to him."


	44. Run Boy Run

**A/N: Hi, everyone!**

**I really do want to apologize - these chapters have been coming in so late, and I'm really sorry about that. With previous chapters, I've had bits of following chapters written, which help speed things up a bit, but the next bits I've written are pretty far ahead. I'll try to get them out faster.**

**Allicat (Guest): I'm honored to be the subject of your first review! I'm so glad you like the story (sorry about the wait) and I'm amazed and honored that I've managed to change the way you look at the movies. Hugs!**

**gemma (Guest): My stalwart reviewer/friend. (Can I call you that?) I'm glad you liked May and Skye - there's more Coulson and Skye in this chapter for you! **

**I've just become obsessed with this song. Luckily the chapter fit it.**

* * *

**TWENTY**

* * *

_Run, boy, run! This world is not made for you  
Run, boy, run! They're trying to catch you  
Run, boy, run! Running is a victory  
Run, boy, run! Beauty lays behind the hills_

_Run, boy, run! The sun will be guiding you_  
_Run, boy, run! They're dying to stop you_  
_Run, boy, run! This race is a prophecy_  
_Run, boy, run! Break out from society_

_\- "Run Boy Run," Woodkid_

* * *

"Not alone," Loki scowled. "I am not leaving you alone with him again."

She sighed in exasperation. "I can take care of myself, Loki. And he's not going to hurt me."

"You said that before he wiped your mind, too."

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, grimacing slightly. "He's changed, Loki. We all have."

He ran a hand through his hair. "How can you be sure?"

Her eyes reached up to his. "He's come back from the dead. He's had his memories rewritten, too. And there's something _different_ about him, Loki, something wrong with his mind."

He paced back and forth. "Even more reason to stay."

She stood up slowly, a hand pressed to her side. "I _need_ to talk with him, Loki. And," she paused, "I'm sorry, but you're not going to help."

He walked nearer to her, cupping her face. "I can't trust him. Not with you." His hand wrapped around her arm. She winced and he let go immediately. "Did I hurt you?"

She smiled wryly. "Not _you_, exactly…" She rolled up her sleeve, revealing five livid bruises, darkening to purple. He inhaled sharply. "Who did this?"

She took his hand and gently wrapped it around her arm again – he barely touched her, not wishing to cause any more pain. The tips of his fingers fit perfectly onto the bruises.

His eyes found hers. She smiled a bit sadly. "They got to you through me, and they got to me through you."

He closed his eyes.

"And then I shot you in the head. And I shot myself in the head, too," she said, her hand lacing though his. "It's been a weird day." She kissed him on the cheek. "We'll catch up later. But I need to talk to Coulson, _alone._"

He sighed. "Very well."

"I know you don't trust him. But you have to trust me, Loki. You can't interfere. No matter what I say, no matter what he says. Even if we get into a shouting match. Okay?"

He touched her cheek. "I only want to keep you safe," he whispered.

She smiled. "You're a bit overprotective, to be perfectly honest. And I _swear_, Loki… he won't hurt me."

There was a pause, and then he nodded, albeit grudgingly.

She tucked a piece of hair behind his ear. "Thank you."

* * *

"Are you feeling all right?" Coulson asked.

She smiled slightly. "I've been better."

"You should sit down."

"I'm fine, thank you."

A bit of an awkward pause filled the air. She studied his face, noted the lines, the weariness, remembered the glimpse of his mind that she had seen.

"I'm so sorry," she said in a rush. "None of this should have happened. Your mind, your death… it's my fault."

"You know what happened to me, then." It was a statement, and she tried to read his eyes.

"Are you okay? No, that's stupid, of course you're not okay, don't pretend!" She held up a hand, she could practically see the "I'm fine" forming on his lips. "You're not okay." And then, more softly, "Is it happening more often now?"

His lips tightened and he nodded.

She sighed. "I'm sorry."

Another pause filled the air.

"You wanted to recruit me, didn't you?" she asked.

He shrugged. "We need all the help we can get. We're short on agents and we could use you."

She shook her head. "I can't, Coulson, I just can't."

"Why?" he asked sharply. "Because of _him?_" His eyes darted outside the room where Loki was standing (and probably listening to every word). "Again?"

She shook her head again, saying, "Coulson, you can't – you don't trust me. You never have, and… I trusted you. For so long, and I can't… I can't…" She sighed. "When I joined S.H.I.E.L.D., you assessed me, remember? Put me on the Index. And I'm always going to be seen as a threat. To you, to your team… and you'll always be thinking of ways to take me down. And… you did once. You hurt me. Stole my memories – and I don't blame you, I don't. You did what you thought you had to do. But I could never work with you again."

He stood there in silence.

"And with my powers… you could never keep a secret from me, Coulson, you could never hide a thing. Confidentiality, classified information, they all go out the window with me. Nothing is safe, nothing is secret…" She looked down at the floor, the white tiles.

"I understand," he said. Then, "But you're still not safe. HYDRA's looking for agents, too, and… they're not quite as accepting of refusal as I am. You'll have two options – join HYDRA or die."

She raised her eyes to meet his. Danger all around her, and where could she go? Aliens attacking her, and HYDRA coming after her, and all she wanted to do was live, live out her life with Loki by her side, and it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, it _wasn't fair._

"Alana?"

She snapped out of her thoughts and focused on him again, his eyes meeting hers, a touch of the old gleam there.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry, too."

She smiled faintly. "You're a good man, Coulson. And I want to thank you. For letting me – us – on your plane. For helping me."

She held out her hand, and he shook it. She smiled one last time, and he left.

Loki slipped back into the room, silently. He wrapped her in his arms, careful not to brush against her slowly healing wounds. "That was brave," he said, his lips pressing briefly to the top of her head. "Brave to speak to him."

She sighed deeply, resting her head against his chest. There was a silence between them for a few minutes, peaceful and secure, and if she could freeze this moment and live in it forever, she would.

"We need to leave," she said finally. "And I don't know where to go."

She looked up at him and caught a glimpse of his old mischievous smirk. "Not to worry," he said. "I know just the place."

* * *

They bumped into the dark-haired young woman again as they were leaving the plane – no fuss, just quietly slipping out when Alana had gauged that they had landed.

The young woman looked first at him, wariness still filling her eyes, then glanced at Alana. "Feeling better?" she asked, her eyes flicking back to him again, as if she thought he might try and kill them all if she took her eyes off of him.

Alana said lightly, "Much." Of course, this wasn't the truth, even if she wouldn't tell him what was wrong (he sighed internally) he could see her moving more slowly, wincing more frequently. It would be time to treat her wounds again soon, and find out what else the N'itouri had done to her.

The bruises on her arm, and her explanation that had followed, had changed much in his mind. The N'itouri must have shifted into him and… hurt her.

_"__And then I shot you in the head,"_ she had said. And had she thought it was him, for a moment? Thought that it was he, back on Midgard, his hand latched tight around her forearm, his fingers digging into her skin?

He wrenched his thoughts back to the present, to Alana and the agent. Alana was looking at him a little strangely, and he realized his hands were clenched into tight fists, his nails leaving marks on his skin.

He released his hands and Alana turned back to the agent. "I just wanted to thank you," she said. "For helping me."

"Thank your boyfriend," the agent said, eyes flicking back to him again. "He did most of the work."

Alana just looked at her. "Skye…" she said, and her eyes were brown. "Pretty name. But you do help. More than you think. But you want to do more. Prove yourself. And I've seen Coulson and I've seen you and you're more alike than you think. And…" she trailed off, her eyes fading back to gray.

The agent – Skye – was now watching Alana with the same wariness that she had watched him with. "You don't know anything about me."

Alana smiled sadly. "But what do you know about yourself?"

With that, she turned, and began walking towards the ramp of the plane. He shouldered his bag – mainly medical supplies, but the contents of her backpack as well – and began to follow her, but he looked back at Skye and gave her a small nod, and it was not grudging but his own thank you to her for her assistance.

She stood there behind him as he followed Alana out of the plane.

* * *

She sighed deeply once they were out of the plane. "That probably was not a good 'thank you for helping to save my life' gift."

Only footsteps behind her, not a sound.

She turned around. "I can carry that," she said, gesturing to his backpack.

He raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

She nodded and he laughed. "Love, you look like you're about to topple over as it is. And this is not exactly light."

"It looks funny with your armor," she said firmly. "And it's my stuff anyway."

He just looked at her and kept walking, passing her and her outstretched hand. She growled, "Loki…" and tramped behind him, trying to keep up with his long strides. "Give me my bag."

"Sorry, darling, you're wounded. I get to carry the burden for a while."

She stared daggers into his back, but he didn't turn around.

She let out a sigh and hurried to catch up with him. Once she had, his hand found hers, his fingers winding through hers, the comfortable, natural feeling that she had yearned for.

They walked for a while in silence, through the wide yellow field where Coulson's plane had landed.

"Where are we going?" she finally asked. "Do you have any idea where we are?"

"No," he responded. "But I'm guessing that whoever lives there will."

He pointed ahead, to a small cabin. "And if no one's there, well. We need somewhere to spend the night. The sun's already going down."

"Breaking and entering? Really?" she asked.

He smiled at her. "No breaking. Just entering. Although I seem to remember you were very good at lock-picking, so you've probably done this before."

She sighed again and he laughed. "Are you wishing that I was gone again?"

"No," she said, glaring at him. "But I wish you wouldn't be so _infuriating_."

He smiled at her again and said, quite suddenly, "You know that I love you, Alana?"

A question, and it caught her off guard. "Of course I do."

"I never want you to forget that," he said softly and they had stopped in the middle of the field, his hand still wrapped in hers and her eyes fixed on his. "Ever." His hand touched her cheek lightly.

He kissed her lightly at first, as though he was wary of her collapsing again, his hand barely touching her face, but she pressed closer to him, ignoring the sharp ache in her side.

The feel of his hands, of his lips, after waiting and waiting and _waiting_ for so long was almost more than she could bear, and she wanted to cry with relief, because after aliens and battles he was here, with her, not a Not-Loki that would hurt her and hunt her, but her Loki, who would barely dare to touch her for fear that it would cause her pain.

He rested his forehead against hers. "I missed you," he whispered.

She could feel herself trembling, whether from his touch or the ache in her side or what had transpired since he had left her.

A rustle behind them, and she flinched and whipped her head around: just the wind in the grass.

She turned back to him and pressed her face into his chest, her fingers shaking against his armor. He wrapped his arms around her. "You're safe," he whispered, stroking her hair. "You're safe."

She could feel the tears welling in her eyes, and tried to blink them away.

He kissed the top of her head. "I swear, Alana. They will not hurt you again."

She did not know if he meant Coulson and S.H.I.E.L.D. or the N'itouri, but she tried to believe his words, if not for her sake, then for his.

* * *

The cabin was unoccupied, and after a flash of green in the now-dark air, the door swung open.

He placed the backpack down on a chair, surveying the furnished room. "Someone definitely lives here," he said, turning back to her.

She nodded and walked further into the house, fingertips trailing across a table.

He watched her carefully. She was much more wary now than she had been when he had left; the incident with Coulson and her reaction in the field had proved that. She was constantly on guard, and he could see how much the N'itouri had shaken her.

She pressed a hand to her side as she peeked around a corner and down a hallway. He rummaged through the backpack and found a bottle of painkillers. "Here," he said, walking up to her and placing two pills in her hand. "These will help."

She smiled wearily up at him. "Thanks." She popped the pills in her mouth and swallowed them dry. She winced as she pulled off her jacket. "So, what took you so long to get here?"

He lowered his eyes. "Alana, I'm sorry - "

"No, no, that's not what I meant." She sat down on a couch. "How did you convince them?"

He sighed. "I very nearly didn't." He sat down next to her and took her hand in his. "Odin had agreed to send me if necessary, but then the N'itouri attacked Midgard – attacked you – and he blamed me. The Council deliberated for a long time, and I thought I would go mad with waiting." His voice cracked and he fell silent.

"Why did they want me?" she asked quietly. He smiled bitterly. "Thanos," he said. "He promised me pain, suffering… I imagine they would have used you to get to me."

"They almost did," she replied, removing her hand from his. "I shouldn't have called for you, Loki – you're in danger here."

"I would much rather be in danger than remain in that cell," he said. She frowned. "But Loki… don't you need to go back?" Her eyes sought out his. "Won't they come looking for you?"

_"__They will not be sent for you,"_ he remembered. And now the clock was ticking down, and Heimdall was watching, and the Einherjar would be coming. He had promised to return, but how could he leave her alone again, defenseless, wounded?

He forced a smile. "Trust me, love." He kissed her forehead. "You should get some sleep."

She yawned. "There's a couple of bedrooms down there," she said, pointing down the hallway. "Wake me up if you need to."

She walked down the hallway and closed the door.

He waited for ten minutes, and then noiselessly slipped into the room.

She was fast asleep, curled up on the middle of the bed, on top of the covers. The way she was lying looked rather uncomfortable, but it did not require her to lie on her wounds.

He let the necklace slip further through his fingers, and unfastened the clasp.

He placed the necklace around her neck, securing the clasp, and touched her cheek lightly.

_Be safe._

He cast the magic over himself, shielding himself from Heimdall.

_Let us be safe._

* * *

She woke up once in the middle of the night, her stomach growling.

She got out of the bed, grimacing slightly – the painkillers had worn off. She walked down the hallway and into the small kitchen, passing Loki sprawled out on the couch, breathing deeply and evenly.

She smiled a bit and opened the refrigerator, but apparently the occupants had taken all their perishables with them when they had left.

She opened a cabinet and found boxes of cereal. After some searching, she found a bowl and a spoon, and poured herself a bowl.

She leaned over the counter and watched Loki sleep. He turned over and almost fell off the couch, but she thrust out a hand and he lay there, half on the couch, half off, her telekinesis like an invisible platform on which he lay.

He mumbled a little, and she smiled and flicked her fingers so he was pushed fully onto the couch.

She stood there, eating her dry cereal and watching him, his face peaceful. It reminded her of that time long ago, watching him sleep in her desk chair, the shadows falling across his face.

His breathing changed slightly, becoming more rapid. He turned his head. "No…" he said, quite clearly. "I can't… don't want to…"

She set down the cereal bowl and crossed to him. "Loki?" she asked softly.

"No… no… stop…" he said. A muscle was twitching in his jaw. "Stop… stop it. Don't hurt her…"

She sat down on the edge of the couch and touched his shoulder. "Wake up, Loki."

He tossed his head, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. "No… no… take me…"

"Loki, wake up!" She shook him. "It's all right, everything's all right."

"Please!" he cried out, making her jump. "Take me instead!"

"Loki!" she said urgently, and he awoke, sitting up, panting, inches from her face, his chest heaving, his hand still wrapped around her wrist.

"You had a nightmare," she said softly. "It's okay."

He was breathing fast, his eyes fixed on her. "It's okay," she repeated.

His hands came up to her face, fast as lightning, and he pulled her to him, his lips rough and desperate on hers. She let out a small noise that was quickly lost in the ferocity of his kiss. Her hands pressed against his chest, and she kissed him back, remembering the taste of metal and ice and the feel of his hands in her hair.

He pulled away from her and fell back onto the couch; she fell with him, landing with a grunt on his chest. His arms wrapped around her. "Stay with me," he whispered. "Please."

She closed her eyes. "Loki - " she began, but he was tracing his thumbs down her cheeks and then his lips touched hers again, a caress, light and soft and warm and sweet.

She broke the kiss and looked at him, but his eyes were closed – he had fallen asleep again, his arms clasped around her, his breathing once more slow and even.

She moved his arms off of her and stood up slowly, wincing slightly, pressing a hand to her side. She pulled up her shirt and stared at the white bandage.

She peeled it off slowly, looking at the black lines on her skin, left by his fingers, tracing across her stomach, burning her, freezing her, saving her. Three scars, like a claw mark.

She touched them carefully, one by one.

They were cold.

She sighed and walked over to the backpack, finding new bandages to replace the old ones and grabbing two more painkillers.

When that was done, she walked over to him again, sitting down near his head, stroking his hair. She tugged on her necklace absentmindedly, ice cold against her skin.

Her necklace. She froze. She had taken off her necklace when she had called Heimdall, had dropped it in her backpack and all but forgotten about it. So now… now she was hidden again.

Her eyes fell down to Loki. "What did you do?" she whispered.

* * *

Heimdall's gaze snapped down to Midgard, and he could not see Loki or the girl.

He was not surprised. _It is hard for him to leave her, _he thought. _But leave her he must._

He made the journey to the palace and told Odin of their disappearance; the Allfather shook his head wearily (Heimdall could see that he was not surprised either) and ordered Heimdall back to his post.

When he asked if the Einherjar should be sent, Odin said, "There are a handful of warriors ready for battle. Send them."

Heimdall bowed and left his king.

* * *

In the morning, Loki awoke and found his head on Alana's lap – she was propped up on the couch, feet curled under his back, fast asleep.

He sat up and stretched, then smiled and tucked a stay hair behind her ear. She shifted a little bit but did not awaken.

"Back to bed," he said softly and gathered her up in his arms, being careful not to touch her wounded side.

Once he had placed her back in the room, he opened the front door of the small cabin and stood outside for a minute or two, breathing in the fresh air – so different from his cell, sterile and white and always clean, recycled air circulating in and out – relishing in the open air all around him, and the smell of the grass.

He walked back inside and found another bedroom upstairs with clothes that fit him relatively well – the shirt was a bit small, but it would do – and changed.

He perched on the couch in his newly found clothes, his legs tucked under him, and contemplated his armor.

There was a large gash down the center from where Alana had sliced it open with his dagger – he rubbed the area over his heart absentmindedly – and the leather was looking rather worn down. He sighed and passed his hand over the gash, but, unlike other small rips and tears that he had mended with magic, this one would not seal and close.

He frowned and passed his hand over the fabric again: a flash of green light, but the rip stayed there, stubbornly.

He touched the fabric, and then recoiled suddenly as a face flashed through his mind.

_I am waiting, Trickster._

He warily touched the rip again.

_You heard me the first time. And bring that Midgardian who ripped up my armor._

He sighed. "It wasn't on purpose - "

_Midgardians. Primitives, the whole lot of them. Think that people fighting to be the best chef is entertainment._

He furrowed his brow. "How do you know about - "

_Never mind! No appreciation for art is what I'm saying. And what about your brother? Has he ripped up his cape yet? He's not _still_ fighting with that thing on, is he? I told him, first time he came, I told him, capes are fine for ceremonies, but when you're fighting, there should be absolutely no – _

"Enough," he said, his voice hardening. "He is not my brother."

_Of course I know that. I know everything, remember?_

"Loki?" a soft voice cut in. Alana was standing in the hallway, looking concerned. "Are you… talking to your armor?"

_So that's the Midgardian. Tell her she ruined my artwork._

He sighed deeply. Alana's eyes flashed green and she looked even more confused. "Um, there's someone in your head. Other than me, I mean. And you."

_Well, maybe she's not so primitive after all. I must say, Trickster, that there must be something other than a splatter of telepathy to have endeared her to you so much. Otherwise you would have fallen in love with _me._ Ha! Hello, Midgardian! Tell me, what do you see in this tall idiot who can't even keep his armor safe?_

Alana's eyes widened in shock, and faded back to gray. "Loki… who was that?"

He sighed again. "I promise I'll explain, Alana – just give me a minute."

She nodded slightly and retreated.

"Get out of my head," he hissed once she was back inside the room.

_You didn't seem to mind when she was doing it. Ha!_

He rubbed his forehead.

_You'd better come here quickly. I can't stand the sight of that armor._

"Kvasir," he hissed, "It's not like I have easy access to the Bifrost these days. I can't just pack up and come have my armor repaired. Alana is injured."

_Well, so much for knowing the passages between worlds. Did I teach you _nothing_? And the Midgardian will be fine, even though they're a relatively weak breed. Can you imagine, living for a hundred years? _

"I have no idea where I am, Kvasir. The passages between worlds aren't _helpful_ if I don't know where _I_ am."

_Actually, there's one relatively close to you. Go find it. Come and see me. And bring that Midgardian, too. I'm interested._

"Kvasir - " he said, but the presence in his mind had disappeared.

He ran a hand through his hair. He needed to keep them moving, he knew that. Odin would be sending the Einherjar for her soon.

He cast a spell and saw that Kvasir had been right – there was a passage nearby leading to Vanaheim.

Alana came cautiously out of the room and sat down next to him.

"Who was that?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but Alana straightened up suddenly. "There are aliens coming," she whispered. She closed her eyes. "Twenty at the least. On the other end of the field."

He was already moving, gathering their things and rolling up his armor and shoving it in the backpack.

She furrowed her brow. "But they're not N'itouri."

He looked out the window and sucked in a breath.

The Einherjar were here.

* * *

They burst out of the back door and took off running.

She pressed a hand to her side, hoping the ache wouldn't affect her too much.

Loki sprinted across the field with her at his side, arms pumping, legs flashing.

He grabbed her hand. "Don't look back," he yelled.

She heard a war cry from behind them and turned her head, but Loki's hand tightened in hers. _"Don't look back,"_ he said again.

She ran harder. "Loki, where are we going?" she shouted.

He looked at her for a split second. "Alana, do you trust me?"

She nodded breathlessly, the ache in her side beginning to burn.

"Then don't stop running and _don't look back,_" he said fervently.

He released her hand and they ran harder, but she could feel the beat of twenty pairs of feet on the ground and the clanging of armor, and she could practically hear the noise of twenty swords unsheathing.

She could smell salt on the air now, could hear the crashing of the waves far below. Her eyes widened in horror as, a ways in front of them, the field ended and open air began. "Loki?" she cried. He merely took her hand again and ran harder; she could feel the sweat on his fingers and her side was hurting her now.

His eyes fell down to her hand pressed against her side - he nodded grimly and she saw a flash of green magic tracking in front of Loki as he ran. He moved his fingers and then suddenly swore. He veered off to the side, and now they were running parallel to the side of the cliff. His fingers grasped hers tighter, and his eyes found hers for a second before he turned them again and they were running towards the edge of the cliff, closer and closer and closer.

"Trust me," he said to her. She clutched his hand.

They ran off the edge of the cliff and plummeted towards the gray waves breaking around sharp rocks, hundreds of feet below. She screamed as she fell towards the water, closer and closer, and Loki wrapped her in his arms as they fell, and – was that a streak of rainbow light around them? – and then the light increased and she was still falling, still tightly held in his arms, and then the ground came up to meet them at an odd angle and they skidded on the dirt, limbs flailing, tangled with each other, rolling and rolling over the hard ground and finally coming to a stop.

She lay there, exhausted, her body covered with dirt and dust and sweat. Loki stood up next to her, wincing slightly. "Alana?" he asked softly. She opened her eyes a crack and looked up at him in complete disbelief. "You know, when you said, 'Trust me,' I didn't think we were actually going to _run off the cliff._"

A smile spread across his face, and he held out his hand to help her up. "Welcome to Vanaheim," he said.

* * *

**A/N: I'm imagining Kvasir as sort of a combination of Miracle Max and Edna Mode.**

**(Did you get the Edna reference? Hint: It involves Thor.)**

**Please leave a review if you've got any comments!**


	45. South

**A/N:**

***wails***

**I'm sorry, guys. Really. I seem to be having a longer and longer time in between posting. Don't worry, the story's not done, but... I don't know.**

**No excuses. :(**

**Anyway, hope you all like it.**

**Arianne1: Thank you! Hope you like this chapter. :)**

**gemma (Guest): You got it right! I'm glad it made you happy.**

**FromTheAshMeadow: Wow! That's incredible! Thank you so much, and here you go.**

**beckywbotsford: Yeah. Thank goodness, right? I mean, it's no fun writing them apart. ;)**

**ThisIsHope: You got it right!**

**Anna: Thank you! I'm glad you like it, and I'm glad Alana is back to normal too.**

**devon (Guest) and coolcat (Guest): Sorry about the wait! Here you go!**

* * *

**TWENTY-ONE**

* * *

_Some truths, over time, can learn to play nice_

_Some truths are sharper than knives_

_Some truths we only see in the corners of our eyes_

_Some truths we wish we could hide_

_Some truths can save us,_

_Some take our lives_

_Some truths are fire_

_And some truths are ice_

_\- "South," Sleeping at Last_

* * *

She brushed most of the dirt off of her clothing, then ran her fingers through her hair vigorously – a cloud of dust puffed out and she sneezed.

Loki was doing the same, through several streaks of dirt still streaked across his face. Her eyes traced a path down Loki's body, noticing for the first time his new attire. "Where'd you get the clothes?" she asked.

He looked down mildly. "The cabin."

"You _stole_ them?"

His mouth curved up in a half smile. "I wasn't intending to leave quite so soon."

She could see his chest rising and falling – he was breathing slightly faster than normal – and the way his shirt clung to his chest made it hard for her to tug her eyes back to his face.

The small smirk on his lips when she managed to do so indicated that her gaze was not unnoticed.

"Shut up," she said. He raised his eyebrows. "I didn't say anything."

"You're thinking a bit loudly," she replied, her eyes flashing to green for half a second as she began walking towards a nearby tree that had fallen.

He followed behind her. "You started it, love. I can't help that I'm this good-looking."

She laughed and turned around, wrapping her hands behind his neck. "_You_ are a narcissist."

He kissed her by way of response, and her lips parted slightly, her fingers tangling in his hair.

* * *

They stopped to rest in a forest with tall trees and low bushes.

She sat down on a fallen log, her hand clamped to her side. Loki knelt down beside her. "Let me look at it," he said softly, his fingers prying hers away from her stomach. She winced but let him peel off the bandages and replace them.

"Where else?" he asked.

She grabbed the bottle of painkillers out of the backpack and swallowed two. "What do you mean?"

His eyes would not meet hers. "Where else are you injured?"

She sighed. "I'm fine, Loki."

He touched her forearm, the five bruises there turning yellow and purple. "You're not."

She paused for a second. "A cut on my arm, one on my leg, a massive bruise and a scratch on my back, these," she said, pointing to her side, "and these," pointing to the bruises on her arm. "But I stitched up the cuts and I'm _fine_, Loki, really."

His eyes lifted to meet hers and he sighed heavily.

He sat next to her on the log, their legs barely touching. "I am sorry."

"It _wasn't your fault_, Loki, all right?"

He sighed again. "I was foolish to leave you."

She reached out and touched his face, turning his head towards her. "Loki," she said softly. "You can't protect me all the time."

"Why not?" he asked roughly. "Why can't I?"

His face was close to hers now, and she could feel his warm breath against her skin.

"Because I have to take care of myself," she whispered.

His lips grazed her cheek. "You don't want me to take care of you?" he breathed, and she shivered.

"I didn't say that…" she murmured, feeling his lips trace down to the corner of her mouth.

She turned her head towards him involuntarily before pulling away slightly. "Loki, you can't… I need…"

His hand slipped around to the back of her head, weaving through her hair, even as his lips found hers again, and the sensation made her forget her words and she clutched him to her tightly.

When his lips left hers, she whispered, "Please don't leave me."

"Never."

His hand cupped her chin and he kissed her again, slower and deeper. He could feel the warmth of her body, of her lips, and these were the moments he lived for, her in his arms and her scent surrounding him, and her mouth fitted perfectly to his –

"Well, times _have_ certainly changed," a voice broke in.

Alana flinched and tried to pull away from him, but he followed her, holding the kiss for one moment… two moments… three…

He released her (she stood up abruptly) and lazily opened his eyes. "Hello, Kvasir."

Kvasir snorted. "Thor was the one who used to show up with a wench on his arm, telling her I'd show them something special. Fandral once showed up with three. But you… well," he smiled.

Alana's eyes had been wide with surprise but quickly narrowed. "I'm not a _wench._"

Kvasir studied her intently. "No, you are only a child."

Her mouth opened a little in disbelief. "Who _is_ this?" she asked, turning back to him.

He stood up. "Alana, this is Kvasir. He was my… mentor, I suppose."

Kvasir held out his hand. "_And_ your long-suffering armor repairer."

He reached into the backpack and pulled out his armor. Kvasir sniffed in distaste. "I'd better get to work on this." He pulled at the fabric, holding it close to his eyes. "He was _such _a pain. He wanted _input_ on design. And then he couldn't make up his mind about the color. I don't know how you put up with him." He pointed at Loki suddenly. "And you - your heart stopped and you_ forgot to mention it_?"

Loki shrugged. "I'm fine now."

Kvasir scoffed. "Like Hel you are." He produced a bottle of red liquid. "Drink up, you fool."

He took the bottle reluctantly. "Kvasir, I'm fine, really."

She looked at Kvasir, then to Loki, then back. She was tense, on edge, and Loki noticed, his hand touching hers briefly, soothing, reassuring.

She attempted to probe Kvasir's mind but flinched away – a hard, unbreakable wall pushed her out. Kvasir smiled a little, but his voice hardened as he said, "You will not get past my barriers. Do not attempt to again. You will only injure yourself further."

She took a step back as his eyes flicked down to her waist and back up to her eyes. Another telepath?

Kvasir, keeping his eyes on her, pointed at Loki. "Drink."

Loki uncorked the bottle and drank it, making a face. "I'm already healed."

Kvasir, his eyes still on her, said, "Three, two, one," folding down his fingers as he spoke.

Loki collapsed like a marionette whose strings had been cut. She whirled to him as he fell and knelt down next to him, her fingers busy searching for a pulse. "Loki?"

She looked up at Kvasir, accusations swirling in her head. "What did you - "

He waved his hand dismissively. "He's only asleep." He began walking away from her with Loki's armor still held in his hand. "Bring him along, child. We must talk."

She stared after him, and then back down at Loki, who was breathing evenly, a peaceful expression on his face.

She closed her eyes and spread her fingers, palm down.

When she opened them, Loki was floating about four feet off the ground.

She started after Kvasir, Loki trailing next to her, hovering, asleep.

* * *

Kvasir's home was small and rough, with a thatched roof and a dirt yard.

Loki floated behind her through the door. Kvasir gestured towards a cot with one hand, his other already tinkering with Loki's armor. "Put him there."

She did as he said, though she was still suspicious of him.

"Don't be," he replied absently. "He's only asleep. And your lifespan is much too short to worry about an old man."

She regarded him carefully. If Loki was over a thousand years old, then he had to be at least four thousand. His long white beard was tangled and knotty, and his hands were veined. His eyes, though now focused on the armor, looked permanently amused, although his bushy eyebrows obstructed them somewhat.

She looked around, noticing bottles upon bottles filling the walls. Some were filled with murky liquid, some with herbs and leaves.

But there were several that glowed and pulsed with a faint light. She drew nearer to one, a pale blue light, and touched the glass gently.

Memories filled with pure fear rushed through her, alien thoughts streaming through her mind, and she pulled her hand back from the bottle, panting.

Kvasir stood next to her and cocked his head. "You have not mastered your powers yet."

"What _was_ that?" she asked, still breathing hard.

Kvasir walked over to another shelf and pulled down a bottle glowing faintly gold. "I make the best armor. But I have a price." He pointed to Loki, lying peacefully on the cot. "Would you like to see his?"

She swallowed hard. "Are these… their souls?"

He laughed. "No. No. These are their truths."

"I don't understand."

"For their armor, I require they give me the truth of their life – it is a useful ingredient in some magic. It is hard for some to give. It nearly killed him," he said sorrowfully, gesturing to Loki. "For others, it is easy."

"I still don't…"

Kvasir raised his hands, fingers outstretched. "I will show you."

She retreated slightly and he frowned. "You must trust me. I will not hurt you."

"Loki's given me memories before," she replied, suspicion in her voice and the lingering pain of the N'itouri in her mind. "It _always _hurts."

Kvasir scoffed. "He is young. Do not compare me to him, child."

"I'm not a child."

He turned his head, staring deep into her eyes. "He is old, child, and you are _so _young. He will live for thousands of years, and you… will not."

She felt a lump in her throat and swallowed hard.

He shrugged. "The burden Midgardians must bear."

She stepped forward. "Show me. His truth."

"Very well."

His fingers pressed against her temples, and the world faded out of focus.

* * *

She opened her eyes with a gasp.

She stood in the exact same spot in Kvasir's house, but Loki was not in the cot and Kvasir was not in front of her. Instead, Kvasir was busy working at his bench, and Loki was standing with his back to her, his hair much shorter and his stance looser.

Loki was speaking, idly picking up small bottles and looking at the contents. "I was quite jealous of Thor after he got his armor, I'll admit. But the expression on his face when he came out of here…"

Kvasir scoffed. "Thor's truth was just underneath the surface. He had almost recognized it, even before I was involved."

Loki's eyes flicked to Kvasir. "You take the truth? What good can that do for you?"

Kvasir made a humming noise. "It is useful. And oftentimes it is beneficial to the both of us. It can change the making of the armor."

"The making of the armor?"

Kvasir looked up from his work. "The truth is powerful. And that power can be channeled in many ways. Sometimes it influences the making of the armor, armor which is made to be a second skin in battle – I use a bit of each person's truth in their armor, and it takes me where it will."

"I do not understand."

Kvasir smiled. "Shall we begin?"

She watched as Loki turned to face Kvasir. His face looked so young and at ease. She reached out to touch him, her fingers brushing his sleeve, but he did not register the movement, nor the touch.

He knelt before Kvasir, in the center of a large triangle on the floor. Kvasir took a bowl filled with what looked like leaves and crushed them in his hand, inhaling deeply.

He muttered a word she did not understand, then threw the leaves to the ground. Light surged from his hands, outlining the triangle in a brilliant shade of green.

Loki's head flew back and his eyes were filled with green light.

_YOU CANNOT HIDE FROM ME,_ a voice echoed in her head. She recoiled before realizing that Loki was hearing it too. _BUT YOU TRY. WHY DO YOU HIDE FROM ME?_ The voice continued, _I CAN SHOW YOU WHAT YOU ARE, WHAT YOU KNOW YOU ARE. WHY RESIST? WHY HIDE AWAY?_

Loki clenched his eyes tightly shut, his hands balled into fists. _You have no power over me,_ his voice reverberated through her mind, though his lips did not move.

_I HAVE POWER OVER EVERYTHING. WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF, SILVERTONGUE, TRICKSTER? WHY ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE TRUTH, LIESMITH?_

_I am not!_

_THEN FACE IT. STOP RESISTING._

_I… cannot._

_ARE YOU AFRAID OF YOUR BROTHER? OF YOUR FATHER?_

_No._

_WHAT YOU ARE AFRAID OF IS YOURSELF, IS IT NOT?_

_No._

_YOU ARE TERRIFIED OF YOUR FUTURE. TERRIFIED OF BEING THE OUTCAST, ALWAYS, TERRIFIED THAT YOUR FATHER DOES NOT LOVE YOU, THAT YOUR BROTHER OVERSHADOWS YOU. TERRIFIED THAT YOUR MOTHER MIGHT FAVOR THOR AS YOUR FATHER DOES._

_No!_

_ACCEPT IT, TRICKSTER. ACCEPT YOUR TRUTH. ACCEPT THAT YOU WILL BE SECOND BEST, ALWAYS, DOOMED TO BE THE LONER AND FORGOTTEN._

_I will not!_

_ACCEPT YOUR TRUTH, AND I WILL SET YOU FREE._

She realized her eyes were filled with tears. "No," she whispered quietly. "That's not the truth."

_ACCEPT IT!_

She knelt beside Loki and cupped his face. "Can you hear me? This is not the end. Find me. Love me. And I will love you, Loki, I swear, I will love you until I die."

_ACCEPT IT!_

"This won't last forever," she whispered. "I will be waiting when you fall. I will wait for you forever, Loki – I will be there in the darkness, I promise. Come to me."

Loki screamed, a ragged noise, and she pulled him closer to her. "I love you. I love you. I love you."

_ACCEPT IT!_

_YES! _his voice screamed out. _I know, I know! _

Tears ran down his face, and she pressed her forehead to his.

_I will always be afraid and alone._

He went limp in her arms and the green light disappeared – she followed it with her eyes as it flowed into a small bottle, where it lay pulsing, gold and bright.

The triangle around her faded and Kvasir pushed his way in between them, pouring a glowing blue potion down Loki's throat, his hand seeking a pulse. "Damn," he muttered. "Breathe, Loki."

Loki's eyes opened, the green light lingering for half a second more, and then his eyes faded back to a watery emerald, and he fell on his hands and knees, taking deep, heaving breaths, his eyes closed tight – but she could see a tear slip out from beneath his lashes and she reached out to touch his face again, but Kvasir placed a hand on his shoulder, gripping him tightly. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Loki opened his eyes. "I do not know."

Kvasir extended a hand to him and helped to pull him up. "Your armor will be ready in a day. Go and lie down."

Loki made his way over to the cot, a hand rubbing his temples. He sat down on the cot and asked, "Did you… did you hear what I heard?"

Kvasir shook his head. "No one knows that but you."

_And me,_ she thought.

The world faded out of focus and back in, and she was standing outside the hut, next to two men, one with blond hair, one with white. Thor and… was that Odin?

The door opened and Loki stepped out, garbed in his armor, black leather and gold, a green cape swirling over his shoulders and his helm on his head. He looked powerful, but there was a gleam of light and mischief in his eyes. "What do you think?" he asked.

Thor looked at the helm. "Have you taken the cow for your symbol, brother?"

Loki raised his eyebrows. "Well, the chicken was already taken." He grinned suddenly and Thor smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "You look like a king, Loki."

Loki's helm and shoulder plates faded as he spread his hands. "That was the point, was it not?"

Kvasir stepped out of the hut, and bowed formally to Odin.

"A fine job again, Kvasir," Odin said, his face impassive. "And the payment was satisfactory?"

Kvasir nodded. "Keep an eye on him for a day or two. I had to revive him with a potion."

Thor grinned and turned to Loki. "Did you faint, brother?"

"I look a sight better than you did when you walked out of here. You were shaking, remember?" Loki retorted.

Thor waved his hand. "That was merely excitement."

Kvasir raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

"We must be off," Odin said. "Thank you for your service, Kvasir."

Kvasir said, "Your Majesty, might I speak to you for a moment?"

Odin nodded and Kvasir drew him aside. "He needs more training. Frigga has taught him all she knows, but I can teach him more. I can _make_ him more."

Odin's eye, pale blue, regarded him closely. Finally, he said, "Make him strong." Kvasir bowed and the world blurred again. She opened her eyes and Kvasir took his hands off her head.

"It wasn't true," she said. "What the… voice told him, it wasn't true."

Kvasir shrugged. "The truth is a matter of circumstance. It can change. The ones I take from them do not necessarily foresee the future – it only makes them realize what _they_ truly regard as the truth."

She crossed to Loki and sat on the cot next to him.

"I don't want to leave him," she said softly. "I don't – want to die."

"Then there is only one path available to you," Kvasir answered. "But it will require time. And trust. And – forgive me – but the Allfather will not trust you easily."

She looked up. "What do I have to do?"

Kvasir smiled. "Well, to start with, you'll need some armor."

* * *

She knelt down in the center of the triangle, faded on the floor, as Kvasir bustled around collecting ingredients. "The sleeping potion will wear off soon," he said, "and I have an inkling that Loki might think this is dangerous, so we'll have to be quick."

"I make my own decisions," she said. "He'll just have to live with it."

Kvasir nodded. "Good luck." He crushed the herbs in his hand and muttered a word as he dropped them. A haze of green surrounded her, and thousand hands reached for her, pulled her into her own mind - a blinding white glare surrounded her and she landed with a grunt on a flat, white surface stretching out in every direction.

"Alana."

She turned and looked. It was Loki, dressed in gleaming white. He took her hand and helped her up.

"You're not real," she said, but she could feel his hand, smooth and cold, laced in hers.

"Your truth is different."

"Is it?" she asked. "Why?"

"Because you have known it consciously for a while."

She looked at him. It definitely wasn't Loki – he was _too_ perfect, gleaming and radiant.

"You know that death and ruin follows you," he said calmly.

She flinched and took her hand from his. "No."

He cocked his head, like a small child asking a question. "You used to know it. Why are you trying to forget?"

"That's not – that's not true."

"Your brother, your father, your mother… you didn't cause their deaths?"

She breathed in deeply. "It was not my fault."

"And then your mind was wiped, and I… well. I wasn't very good, was I?" He smiled at her, cruelty tingeing his gaze. "How many people died because of you, that day?"

* * *

Loki's eyes opened slowly. His head felt fuzzy, and his mouth tasted awful, but where he was laying was comfortable and warm, and a faint smell of leaves permeated the air around him.

He rolled over and a green light passed through his closed eyelids.

Where was he? He had definitely been running away from the Einherjar with Alana, and then they were on Vanaheim… and they met Kvasir… and…

_A bitter taste in his mouth, and Kvasir counting down - and then blackness._

He opened his eyes again and closed them briefly – the green light was blinding. How long had he been asleep?

_Green light surrounding him, and then the voice comes, loud and harsh and ringing…_

He sat up straight. "Alana?"

He swung his legs off the bed, and his eyes fell to her, kneeling on the floor, eyes open but vacant and so far away – they were full of green light, shining, glowing, and a chill ran down his spine.

The green triangle pulsed on the floor around her, and Kvasir stood before her, his hands raised and eyes closed.

He stumbled out of the bed (his legs still seemed half asleep) and towards her, intending to pull her out, but Kvasir flicked his hand and a pyramid of light incased her.

His hands hit the light, but as hard as he pushed, his hands could not break through to her. He whirled to Kvasir. "Let her go."

"It was her choice to make," he said distractedly. "She'll be all right."

"Like I was _all right,_ Kvasir? You had to revive me!"

Kvasir made a little humming noise. "She is strong."

"Let her go. Now."

Kvasir's eyes finally opened and met his. "I cannot."

He pressed his hands against the barrier, staring at her face, shaded in green – she seemed calm enough, but it had hurt _so _much… the voice in his head, pounding out the rhythm… _accept it, accept it, accept it…_

He shook off the memories and crouched down next to her.

_Be safe._

* * *

"No. It wasn't my fault."

"Accept the truth, Alana," he whispered, his face close to hers, one finger tracing down her cheek, the cruelty still touching his eyes.

She stared him in the eyes. "That is not my truth. That is ancient."

He stepped back, the evil light in his eyes fading. "You truly believe that. You are… different."

"I am strong."

"Not yet," he said. "You will be, someday." His eyes flicked up and down her body, assessing her in a detached manner. "Your real truth is that you do not belong anywhere."

She looked away from him.

"You do not belong on Earth – you are different from them. You will not belong on Asgard – you are different from them as well. On no world will you be truly accepted."

"And?" she asked.

"It will be a lonely life."

She shook her head. "I'll have you."

He smiled faintly. "I am not real, as you so astutely pointed out. And you will certainly have him for the rest of your life."

She looked at him; his face was impassive, revealing nothing. "Will he have me for the rest of his?"

"You will never belong anywhere. Do you accept your truth?"

She shook her head. "Maybe I won't belong to a world. But I will always belong with him."

He smiled and touched her cheek. "Good enough."

She felt a string attempting to pull her back to reality, but she resisted. "Wait," she said. "_Will_ he have me for the rest of his life?"

His eyes met hers. "I do not foresee the future. But he will live five thousand years, and you…. Unless he dies an early death, I do not see how it could be possible."

She inhaled slowly. The string tugging on her became more insistent, and she stumbled backwards a few steps. Loki lifted his hand. "Farewell, Alana Cooper."

She gasped and opened her eyes – she was incased in green light, but her eyes immediately went to a brighter substance. Her truth, pale as silver, floated slowly up above her and collected at the point of the pyramid.

She looked away from it, her heart still pounding a hair too fast. She saw Loki's face, hazy through the green, his hand pressed against the barrier. After a second, the light around her disappeared, and she wrapped her arms around him as he moved closer, burying her head in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. He held her close, his hands firm on her back.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly. She nodded, and he let out a little sigh of relief. "It's like you _want_ me to worry, Alana."

"I was fine," she said, her voice muffled by his neck. "It wasn't that bad."

He stroked her hair and kissed her gently on the top of her head. Kvasir cleared his throat and she looked up to see him corking a bottle filled with silver light.

Loki kissed her on the forehead and helped her up. She reached out a hand for the bottle, which Kvasir deposited in her palm.

She looked closely at the light, shifting and glowing in her palm. She closed her eyes and reached out her mind, and felt the images of the empty space and Loki dressed in white come back to her.

_"__I'll have you."_

She handed the bottle back to Kvasir. He raised an eyebrow. "What's your favorite color?"

* * *

Alana's head rested on his stomach and she let out a little sigh.

"Here we are again," she said. He smiled. They were lying on the grass outside of Kvasir's hut, and the stars were bright and shining above them.

She rubbed her eyes and yawned. "I'm _so_ tired. Maybe it was the running."

He fiddled with a strand of her hair, letting it slip through his fingers. "You should sleep, then."

"No, I want to see the armor, and Kvasir said it wouldn't take that long. He said he's already got the prototype, he's just going to alter it a bit."

He nodded and stroked her hair. "All right, then."

The door to Kvasir's hut opened abruptly, light spilling out. He propped himself up on one arm. Alana shielded her eyes and sat up, furrowing her brow.

A black mass flew through the air towards them and Alana flinched, her hands coming up instinctively to protect her face.

The object stopped, hanging in the air in front of them, and Alana lowered her hands cautiously.

"Oh," she said. It was his armor, newly repaired. She carefully lowered it down to the ground.

The door to Kvasir's hut shut again. "Don't tear it again or I'll make it invisible!" said Kvasir, his voice muffled but only a little irritated.

Alana raised her eyebrows. "_That _would be interesting."

He smirked. "I could do that, if you're so… _interested._"

He lay back down and Alana scoffed. "What, so you can have hordes of women throwing themselves on you? I don't think so. Sorry."

"I'd be content with just one," he said. She laughed and bent her head over his, her hair brushing his face, a curtain between them and the world as she kissed him slowly.

He pulled her closer to him, the curves of her body melting into his, and he could feel the earth under his back and her lips were warm and soft on his. She pulled away slightly, her lips still grazing his, and whispered, "Anyone specific in mind?"

"Mm. No one in particular."

"_That'll_ have to change," she muttered, and kissed him again, fiercer this time, the heat of her mouth spreading through his body. His hands skimmed across her hips, and he rolled over, pressing her against the earth, her hands winding into his hair and her body soft under his.

He kissed her again and again and again, planting kisses down her jawline, inhaling her scent, and she let out a little moan, her hands pulling him closer to her, closer, closer -

The door opened again, the light shining down on them, and footsteps approached. He felt a small pang of loss as Alana's hands slid out of his hair, and he felt her hands pushing gently on his chest.

He could practically hear Kvasir rolling his eyes. "Get a room, you two," he said, although his voice was more amused than chiding.

"We would if there were more than one room in your house," Loki responded, grinning.

Alana's hands pushed at him again, and he rolled off her; she sat up, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ears, her cheeks only a bit red.

Kvasir extended a hand to her, which she took as he helped her up. He nodded towards the house. "It's ready. Go change."

She walked into the hut and shut the door, and he stood up, brushing off his shirt.

Kvasir just looked at him, a faint tinge of concern in his eyes.

"What?"

Kvasir shook his head. "Nothing."

He frowned slightly at him, but turned away.

There was a pause, and then Kvasir said softly, "She does not want to die."

He looked up at the sky. "I am glad for that."

"No, Loki, you do not understand – she does not want to leave you. She does not want to die."

He let out a sigh. "What can I do, Kvasir? I tried to talk myself away from her a thousand times by reminding myself I would only lose her in the end. What can I do? She is human."

"And you love her nonetheless."

He did not respond. Kvasir let out a little laugh. "You have changed, Loki."

"I know."

Silence surrounded them, the warm silence of the summer night.

Kvasir said quietly, "She _can_ stay with you forever."

He bowed his head. "Kvasir - "

"Idunn's golden apples."

He paused, and then responded, "The Allfather would never allow it."

Kvasir stepped into his line of view. "You must convince the Allfather that you must take the throne. From there…"

"No."

Kvasir's eyes assessed him. "Thor will not take the throne."

"No, he will not."

"Then who will?" Kvasir let the question linger in the air for a moment, then said, "You are the only choice."

"No," he repeated again. "I went down that road and on it I found only pain and death and destruction."

Kvasir scoffed. "Well, obviously I'm not telling you to destroy Jotunheim. And I'm not telling you to go and tell Odin that to be king is your right – again." He leaned closer. "What I'm telling you to do is _show_ him how you have changed."

"How?" he asked, a tinge of bitterness in his voice. "From my cell?"

Kvasir rolled his eyes. "Odin had confined you to your chamber before you returned to Midgard."

"Convenience. And that was _before_ I broke the rules and stayed on Midgard."

"Nonetheless," Kvasir said, "that indicates a slight thawing of his heart. You must beg for mercy - "

"Again."

"Yes. Thor will be returning from Midgard relatively soon, it seems, and it would be wise for you to appeal to him as well."

He stared at Kvasir in disbelief. "You would have me beg like a peasant to my liege lord?"

"No." Kvasir's eyes were gentle. "As one brother to another."

He turned away from Kvasir again and said nothing.

"There is a war coming, Loki," Kvasir said. "And Thor will be the warrior you value the most, in the end. You must make your peace with him."

"I have."

Kvasir sighed. "Yes, and then you faked your death and pretended to be your own father."

"He's not my father."

Kvasir sighed in impatience. "You must keep your allies close, Loki. In war you will be surrounded with enough hate and fear without distrusting your family – even if you are adopted."

"I cannot be king, Kvasir."

"She will be safe," Kvasir said, clasping his shoulder. "She will be safe and grow old with you."

A shudder went through his bones. _I have never dared to hope for that before._

Kvasir nodded. "I know."

Silence for a moment, and then a voice trickled out of the hut. "Um, Loki?" she called. "Can you give me a hand?'

He started towards the hut, but Kvasir stopped him. "The war is coming, Loki." And then, quiet as a whisper, "Make sure you keep her safe."


	46. The Nights

**A/N:**

**SORRYSORRYSORRYSORRYSORRY**

**Really though, I think that was three months. That's terrible - and extremely unfair to you all, you've been so supportive and kind, and have allowed this story to live past a year!**

**I'm gonna be stepping up the writing. Expect the next chapter in two weeks or less, okay? Send me angry notes if I don't.**

**Allicat (Guest) : *sweats* Sorry about that. I'm glad you like it! **

**anon (Guest) : No fears, this story won't stop! I'm really happy you like the Norse myth figures. If you haven't read it already, I recommend the story with Kvasir in it! And Lokasenna, which is the bomb.**

**jamie207 (Guest) : Thank you! *hugs***

**Anon (Guest) : I'M SO SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT**

**bluescarfman (Guest) : you reviewed on October 14th. It is now the 28th of December. *wails forever* sorrysorrysorry**

**Gemma (Guest) : Thank you! Sorry about the wait.**

* * *

**TWENTY-TWO**

* * *

_When thunder clouds start pouring down_

_Light a fire they can't put out_

_Carve your name into those shining stars_

_He said, "Go venture far beyond these shores._

_Don't forsake this life of yours._

_I'll guide you home no matter where you are."_

_\- "The Nights," Avicii_

* * *

She had dressed herself in roughly woven black breeches and a sleeveless dark blue shirt that would cushion her slightly from the metal and leather. She was strapping on brown leather gauntlets, her back to him, as he entered Kvasir's hut.

She turned, showing him her gauntlets, and he nodded appreciatively, noting the circles of hammered gold on either one.

She opened her hand to reveal a small golden charm. "This is all that's left."

He picked it up, looking at it closely, then moved behind her, unclasping her necklace, his fingers brushing her neck, and slid the charm next to his fingerprint.

He looked from the charm to her gauntlets and back again. There was something strange about the circles on the gauntlets… something he couldn't quite pin down…

Kvasir entered the hut, his eyebrows raised. "Well?" he asked.

Alana said, "They're beautiful, but…"

Kvasir smiled and said, "It has – how would Midgardians say? – all the tech." He pointed at her left gauntlet. "Look at the dial."

She stared at her gauntlet, and he stepped closer as well– on second thought, the circle of gold _did_ look like a dial of some sort. She twisted it to the right once and heard a _click_.

The new charm on her necklace seemed to unravel - she gasped in surprise - as small strands of brown and gold and blue snaked from it and wrapped around her chest and torso. In a few seconds, she was garbed in armor like he had never seen before.

The leather seemed to be braided through with metal – he touched her shoulder tentatively, noting the strength and flexibility. It was streaked through with blue, creating a layered effect. A gold triangle swept down from each shoulder, stopping below her rib cage, and bands of leather mixed with blue, overlapping each other down her torso.

He could not speak.

She looked down at herself. "This is incredible."

Kvasir chuckled. "That's not all it does. Turn it again."

She did so and her armor shimmered and darkened, turning to black, darker than night.

"Stealth mode," Kvasir said. "Turn it again."

She twisted it again and the armor's usual color returned, but this time the tendrils wove golden plating over her upper arms and torso, and a deep blue cape swept down from her shoulders to the ground. The high neck of the armor retreated, curving down to expose her collarbone, much like a ball gown; and a skirt wove itself out of blue and gold from her hips to the floor.

Almost as an afterthought, the tendrils snaked up to her temples and formed a circlet of gold, gently curving down into a V on her forehead.

"Formal wear," Kvasir said. "And I really can't stop you, but I would highly recommend not fighting in this one_._"

She lifted the circlet off her head gently, turning it over in her hands.

"You look like a queen," Loki said to her softly, a faint smile on his face.

She seemed to stand taller, her eyes to pierce his soul more deeply, and when her hand found his, he stared at their intertwined fingers – they seemed too powerful and lovely to hold his hands, tainted with blood and fear and terror as they were.

And yet her hands still touched his, she had chosen him, over and over, and even when he had filled her with hatred and fear she had still chosen him.

He did not deserve her.

Kvasir pointed at her right gauntlet. "That one only has two settings."

She twisted it and the gauntlets dissolved, tendrils snaking around her biceps to form two slender golden bands.

"The dials are still there," Kvasir said, and they were, two small circles, slightly raised. "They control your armor – make sure you always know where your gauntlets are, understand? The charm gives you the armor, but the gauntlets control the charm."

She twisted the dials back and the tendrils regressed, flowing up her body to the charm, which lay against her shirt, unassuming, unobtrusive.

A twist on the other dial and her gauntlets reappeared.

She looked the same as when he had walked into the hut, and yet she seemed so different.

What would it have been like if she had been born an Aesir? How much sooner would he have found her?

She smiled at Kvasir. "Thank you so much. I wish I could – " but Kvasir stopped her, saying, "You have already paid."

* * *

She yawned deeply again, and sat down on the cot.

"I can take the floor, Loki, you were on the couch last night," she said, but he could see her eyelids growing heavier, the weight in her bones that told him she needed to sleep.

"It's all right, love," he said softly. "I'll be fine."

She lay down on the cot, pulling the blanket over her. He kissed her softly on the forehead, stroking her hair lightly.

"Sleep well," he whispered.

She smiled sleepily up at him and closed her eyes.

He stood next to her for a moment, watching her breathe, then lay down on the floor next to her.

She lowered her hand down from the cot and touched her fingers to his. He kissed her hand. "Goodnight," she said softly.

* * *

He awakened once in the night to find Kvasir standing over them, his face shadowed.

Kvasir moved his hands slightly, whispering a word, and pale silver tendrils appeared in the air, emanating from Alana, stretching out across the darkness.

One drifted down to him and caressed the top of his hand – he could not feel it – and she shifted and murmured faintly, "I told you it works in my sleep."

Kvasir smiled slightly, his gaze fixed on Alana. "She is dream-reading."

He stood up slowly, gazing at the tendrils swirling around the hut. "What does that mean?"

"It is relatively rare, among telepaths. Her connection to others' minds is not lost even while she sleeps."

Loki looked down at her. "She has done it before."

A tendril turned towards Kvasir and moved towards him, reaching towards him questioningly.

Kvasir raised his hand and the tendril stopped, hesitating for a moment, then cautiously touched the center of his palm.

Kvasir's eyes widened in surprise and – was that fear? - and he shut his eyes intently.

Loki looked to Alana, remembering how she had flinched away from Kvasir's mind in pain, but she seemed peaceful now, her brow only furrowing slightly.

Kvasir inhaled sharply, turning his head to the side. "Out," he whispered fiercely.

Alana smiled faintly, and said, "You said it would hurt. It doesn't."

"Yes, it does," Kvasir said, "_Armustar, _it hurts."

Alana frowned and the tendril slowly retreated, curling away from his hand. Kvasir opened his eyes, one hand rubbing his head.

"What was that?" he asked Kvasir softly. "How did she get into your mind?"

"She found a path into my mind," Kvasir said, looking down at her with something close to wonder, his brow knitted, his eyes deeper than he had ever seen them. "She could not have, and she did."

He took Alana's hand suddenly, and now Loki could see his tendrils too, bright and shining in the air. His did not float with uncertainty as hers did – they drifted to Alana, touching her mind, gently but insistently repelling the tendrils that rose to meet them.

Alana's eyes squeezed a bit tighter shut.

"Mmm," Kvasir said. "She _is_ strong. And she is different."

He hesitated, and then said softly, "She is like me."

"What did you call her?" Loki asked.

"I called her the telepath," Kvasir said.

Alana's lips curved up slightly, and she murmured, _"Mi'ri sh'armustar. Mi'da khasar sha'faraek dei Kvasir."_

Kvasir smiled faintly. " 'I am the telepath. I will take the place of Kvasir.' That is what she said."

Loki furrowed his brow. "I do not understand."

Kvasir clapped him on the shoulder. "Sleep. This is a conversation that can wait."

He paused. "She must hear it, too."

* * *

She woke up in the morning warm and too content to bother to open her eyes.

She regressed into her mind and found a light – Loki - on the floor next to her, still sleeping. She smiled slightly but refrained from touching his mind.

She felt different here, less afraid. Removed from Earth and S.H.I.E.L.D. and Coulson, she felt a little stronger, a little braver.

Her side throbbed suddenly and the feeling of strength seeped away, replacing her with a sense of trepidation.

_His eyes, wicked and bright, staring into hers; his hand, latched tightly around her arm; the mouth that she has kissed, saying words she has heard before – "Hello, love" – but it isn't him and she is so afraid; she draws her gun and fires and the light leaves his eyes; claws, raking through her, burning, and she screams –_

She opened her eyes hurriedly, drinking in the sight of his body sprawled out on the floor, peaceful and still, his face content. _He is safe. I am safe._

_Come here,_ a voice whispered in her mind - Kvasir. _Do not wake him._

She sat up, stepping lightly over Loki's sleeping form, and joined Kvasir at a rough wooden table, vials and fabric and scraps of metal pushed to one side to form a small space.

Kvasir held out a bowl to her; she reached to take it.

He smiled slightly. _That is good._

"What – "

_Don't speak. Think, and I will hear._

She looked at him, quizzically. _Why is that good?_

_You are not dependent on your powers,_ he responded. _You do not use them for menial tasks. That is good._

_Isn't talking in our heads a bit menial?_

He smiled again. _No. It is training._

Loki stirred in the corner of the room. Kvasir's eyes flicked to him. _Go to him._

She glanced at Kvasir, then moved across to Loki, crouching down beside him, touching his cheek gently. His eyes opened and focused on her, and she smiled. "Good morning."

He sat up and stretched, kissing her cheek lightly.

His eyes touched hers again – but there was something there that she could not read, some mix of curiosity and wonder as he looked at her.

"Last night – " he started, but Kvasir cut him off. "Breakfast before stories, Loki."

She looked to Kvasir. "Did something happen last night?"

"The same goes for you," he said, ignoring her question. "Eat."

Loki stood up and made his way to the table, sitting down next to Kvasir. She followed and they ate together silently, but her mind was whirling, full of questions.

Kvasir noticed and smiled faintly at her. _Peace, child. You will know soon._

Loki set down his spoon and merely looked at her with that same curiosity.

She looked at Kvasir, who opened his mouth and began to speak.

"I found my telepathy when I was about Loki's age. I did not conceal the news, and my father noticed quickly that I had also been gifted with magic."

Loki looked interested as well, as though he had not heard his mentor's story before.

"It was relatively easy to find out what had happened to me, living on Asgard. There were legends and such, and the last _armustar_ – " and here Kvasir looked at her intently.

_Translate,_ his voice whispered.

"Telepath," she said automatically, then frowned. "Wait, what language is that?"

Kvasir smiled and continued, "The last _armustar_ found me, eventually, and told me about the lineage."

He looked at her before saying, "As I have found you."

Loki scoffed a little, quietly muttering, "I ripped my armor. I don't believe that qualifies as _finding_."

Her head was whirling – what could Kvasir mean? A lineage of what? Of telepaths?

"Yes," Kvasir said simply. "A lineage of telepaths, sworn to defend the realms. You are the first from Midgard. No two have yet been from the same realm."

She struggled with words for a moment, trying to comprehend his meaning.

"But how do you know it's me?" she asked. "How do you know I'm the next?"

"Dream-reading," he answered. "Your telepathy is not lost while you sleep – you can read minds, even if you do not remember it once you awaken. That was one sign." He paused. "And you entered my mind."

Her brow furrowed – she remembered the pain that Kvasir's barriers had caused her, their strength.

He smiled. "You found a path that only one could have found. Only I was able to enter the last _armustar_'s mind, and only you are able to enter mine."

"So we're the only telepaths?" she asked finally.

Kvasir shook his head. "No. There are others. But their telepathy is less – how would you put it – developed, strong. They cannot reach the limits that we can; they cannot touch entire worlds like you or me; they cannot fight within their mind, or another's mind; they simply do not have that power."

She could hear her heartbeat pounding fast in her ears, and Loki was looking at her concernedly now, his hand reaching to touch hers, but she barely felt it – she was different, she was a part of a _lineage_, there was a _reason_, a reason for the powers that she had never understood, she was no longer a stranger or alone in these feelings – and Loki's hand was soft and cool in hers, and he was a god, and she was the telepath.

Kvasir smiled. "You are the next. And I must teach you, before I die."

Loki gripped her hand involuntarily, his eyes flicking to Kvasir, who looked at him knowingly. "It is almost my time, Loki. Six thousand years is far too long for an Aesir to live – even me. And her arrival proves that. I will train her, and then, I will die."

She held Loki's hand firmly, feeling his fingers trembling slightly.

Kvasir sighed softly and addressed her, saying, "You will not have long to train. Chaos is creeping through the realms, and it will not be long before it erupts. Thanos and his forces - " and here Loki's hand clenched hers again – "are sowing fear and terror. It will not be long before war erupts."

His eyes turned to Loki. "And Asgard's king will need your help."

She smiled incredulously. "Odin?" She looked to Loki. "Would he accept it?"

Loki raised his eyebrows. "I would not count on it."

Kvasir coughed. "I did not mean Odin."

She sat there in silence for a moment more. "Thor, then?"

Kvasir shook his head, his eyes fixed on hers. "Loki will be king."

Loki said exasperatedly, "Kvasir - " but he was interrupted as Kvasir said, "And now that you are the _armustar_, it will be much easier to convince the Allfather to trust you. It will be much easier to convince him to lengthen your lifespan."

She looked at Loki in confusion. "My lifespan?"

"Kvasir, he'll never allow it," Loki said fervently, and she could practically see the words about to rise to his lips, _do not let me hope it could be real_.

Kvasir smiled faintly. _Did you hear that?_

_Yes_, she replied.

_No small wonder. He was practically screaming it._

Loki cleared his throat, snapping her back to reality. "He'll never allow it," he repeated.

Kvasir shrugged and smiled. "One never knows."

He stood up, collecting their bowls. "I imagine you two need to talk."

"Yes," Loki agreed, his eyes turning to hers. "We do."

Kvasir raised his eyebrows. "Good. Then get out."

* * *

She sat with him on the edge of a cliff, high above a lake, dark and deep, the skies above them a pale and foreboding gray.

He gazed at her, noticing the calmness in her brow, the quiet in her eyes, and when the wind rustled loudly in the trees, she did not flinch but tucked her head into his shoulder.

"Kvasir showed me your truth," she said quietly. "While you were asleep."

He closed his eyes briefly – _ACCEPT IT _– and she murmured, "I'm so sorry."

"It's all right," he said, stroking her hair. "You deserved to see it."

"It's not true."

He smiled slightly. "I am still afraid. But I am not alone."

She touched his cheek gently. "Not yet."

Her eyes drifted down from his, her fingers pulling away from him.

"One day, I will die," she said quietly, her voice barely a whisper. "And I don't want to, Loki, I don't want to leave you."

Her eyes reached desperately for his. "I don't want to die."

He enfolded her tightly in his arms, feeling her warmth, and if she died he would be lost again, he would turn again – he could not let her go, he could not let her die – to never feel her in his arms again would be the greatest terror of them all, and who would he become, without her? And he could not accept her mortality, he could _not_, because for a liar and a trickster – or perhaps because of it – he could not accept the truth.

"Odin will trust you, in time," he said eventually. "He trusts Kvasir's judgment – mostly – and since you are the next _armustar…. _I will not lose you again. I swear it."

She tucked her head against his chest.

"It's weird," she said. "It feels like – I don't know – but it's right."

She smiled faintly. "I'm special now."

He stroked her hair. "You were always special, love. Always."

They sat there for a while longer, the sky whirling gray.

"Kvasir said you would be king."

"Alana – " he started, but she pressed a finger to his lips. "You would be a good king, Loki."

He kissed her fingers lightly, and the tenderness in her eyes caressed him and lifted him through the sky.

"It will not happen," he said softly, "but thank you nonetheless."

She sat there with him for a second more, then stood up, stretching briefly, and walked to the edge of the cliff, spreading her arms wide. The wind whipped around her fiercely, blowing her hair back and she smiled slightly and closed her eyes.

He stood up. "Alana?" he called out to her – there was something in her eyes that he could not read, and it made him nervous.

She turned around and smiled at him, her arms still outstretched, and then took one step backwards – he lunged for her but she slipped from his grasp, falling through the air, disappearing off the edge of the cliff.

He scrambled to the edge of the cliff, watching her plunge towards the dark water, feet first, her arms still outstretched and still smiling.

She stopped suddenly, a small figure above the surface of the lake. He shook his head in amazement, his heart still pounding fast.

He saw her raise her arm towards him – he lifted a hand in acknowledgement – but then an invisible force gripped him tight and pulled him off the edge of the cliff as well, hurtling towards the water, a thousand feet below, wind streaming past his face and the sensation of falling all through his body – and the dark water was rising towards him, closer, and closer and closer –

He stopped suddenly, inches above the water, hovering there, his heart racing.

Alana slipped her arms around him from behind. "A little revenge for making _me_ jump off a cliff."

He smiled and turned slightly, his feet inches from the water. Her hair was tangled and her eyes were sparkling bright. "That was much worse than last time," he responded. "Don't jump off any more cliffs without me."

She shrugged. "No promises." He tucked a windswept lock of hair behind her ear – she pressed closer to him, eyes closed, as he traced his fingers down her upturned face, brushing her cheeks, her lips – his hands holding her tightly to him, soft and warm and he could smell the water around them, feel the cold wind rushing past and the warmth emanating from her. He kissed her fiercely and suddenly, and she let out a small noise of surprise - they dropped suddenly, plunging into the water – cold even by his standards – and she laughed against his lips, her hand finding his and guiding them up to the surface.

"You distracted me," she said, brushing her wet hair out of her eyes as they broke through the surface of the lake.

He spat out lake water. "Good thing Kvasir will be training you, then."

She pressed close to him, and shivered, burying her head in his chest. "Cold. Very cold. I probably should have thought this through."

He wrapped his arms around her, and she closed her eyes intently as they began to lift out of the water and slowly ascend to the top of the cliff once more.

Once they were back on the top of the cliff, Alana let go of him and wrung out her hair, and he did the same.

She looked ruefully at his armor, soaking wet, and smiled sheepishly at him. "Is Kvasir going to murder me for ruining your armor again?"

He shrugged. "I believe that would be to the detriment of the realms, so, no."

Alana shivered again, chills running down her spine, arms locked tight across her chest, and he noticed, his brow furrowing, pulling his hand away from hers gently. "I can only keep you cold, Alana."

She smiled faintly at him. "No, I'm all right. I just need to get into some dry clothes."

She took his hand again and walked with him back in the direction of Kvasir's hut.

* * *

Kvasir raised his eyebrows when he saw them soaking wet, but said nothing and merely pushed them towards the fire.

She spread her hands towards the fire, feeling the warmth of the flames – Loki passed her a dry blanket and she toweled off her hair, wrapping the blanket around her tightly.

Loki had shed his armor, piece by piece, and was crouched down by the cot, rifling through the backpack that she had brought from Earth. He pulled out the shirt he had taken from the cottage and smiled in satisfaction. "Found it."

He pulled out the bottle of painkillers as well, handing it to her, but she shook her head. "I'm all right."

His brow furrowed slightly and he stripped off his shirt, pulling the dry one over his head.

He walked to her and offered the painkillers again, wordlessly this time, but she smiled faintly and shook her head again, pressing close to him instead.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked quietly. "Let me see."

His hands gently pulled up her shirt to reveal the bandages, his long fingers making her shiver again – and he peeled the wet bandages from her skin, his eyes darting away briefly as her scars were revealed.

He sighed softly. "If only I could heal you," he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers.

"Loki - " she started, but he had turned away from her and was crouched at the backpack again, pulling out more gauze.

He knelt in front of her and began to bandage her wounds again, covering them from sight, his pale fingers running across her stomach, and she shivered – not from cold – but he pressed the tape against her skin and his hands left her as he stood up quickly.

She pressed close to him, her hands against his chest, feeling his chin resting on the top of her head and his arms wrapped around her.

"I like this shirt," she whispered.

She could feel him faintly smiling.

* * *

Loki woke up in the cot – he frowned slightly, he had made Alana take the cot again last night – and sat up, but the hut was empty.

He pulled on his armor, walked outside, and smiled, leaning against the side of the hut.

This was the fifth day of Alana's training, and she had progressed by leaps and bounds.

She was up against a legion of Einherjar – products of Kvasir's magic – and was darting quickly between them as they tried to slash and stab her.

Loki knew from experience that the swords would not kill her – he remembered the bruises covering his body after practice when he was young – but she was doing much better than he had.

Her armor flashed as she leapt up into the air, using the Einherjar's helmets as a springboard. She ran nimbly across their heads as they collapsed below her – her telekinesis at work – and somersaulted down to land firmly on the ground. The remaining Einherjar charged, and she lifted her hands, but Kvasir yelled, "Shield first!"

She pulled her hands closer to her chest, and the Einherjar attacked with fervor, hacking at the energy barrier.

She closed her eyes and spread her arms out suddenly – the shield expanded quickly, throwing the Einherjar a hundred feet away.

They shimmered and faded and she opened her eyes.

He applauded.

Kvasir glared at him, then walked towards Alana. She stood up, brushing off her armor, and Kvasir pressed two fingers to her temple.

Her brow furrowed slightly – he was replaying her fight from his point of view, highlighting mistakes and pointing out things she should do differently – all without words.

It was a bit strange, watching them stand there in silence.

She opened her eyes and nodded, and he heard her voice in his head._ Come on, Loki. Kvasir says you need to practice too._

He walked towards them and Kvasir began to speak – obviously for his benefit.

"The object of this exercise is mainly for Alana to practice her telepathy, but also for you to practice your magic. I will suppress Alana's telepathy while you duplicate, and she will have to find the real Loki."

Alana's eyes grew wary. "Suppress my telepathy?"

Kvasir smiled. "Don't worry, child. I could not hold it back for long."

He touched his fingers to her head again and her eyes closed. "Go," Kvasir said, nodding at him.

He let the magic flow through him, and the illusions came, taking his form – a hundred Loki's standing haphazardly around him.

Alana's eyes opened and he concentrated hard, trying to make each one as real as possible.

She began to move among them, touching each of them lightly – a few dissolved into green light, but he concentrated more intensely, making them solid.

"Good," Kvasir said softly and Alana removed her hand, staring them in the eyes – she was three away from him now, two, one, and he was looking down into her grey eyes, which sparkled with amusement as she kissed him.

"Good morning," she whispered. He smiled and the illusions faded around them as he held her in his arms.

Kvasir rubbed his temples. "I can't get anything done around here," he mumbled.

* * *

He awoke suddenly in the middle of the night, and saw that Alana was gone.

He stepped outside and saw her there, lying on the ground, looking up at the night sky.

She patted the ground next to her, and said softly, "I don't know any of these stars."

He lay down next to her, her hand twining in his, and said, "Neither do I."

She smiled slightly and closed her eyes, snuggling closer to him.

He kissed her on the forehead. "You've been doing wonderfully."

"It's so different now," she said quietly. "Before, I could choose when I wanted to use the telepathy, but now – on a smaller level I'm always listening."

She opened her eyes, distant and gleaming. "It's like shapes of light, all around me – I can feel what they are." She pointed towards a tall tree. "There's three birds in that tree and" – pointing to another space in the forest – "I have no idea what _that_ is, but it's got fur and a lot of teeth."

Her eyes focused again, tracing his face. "And you."

She smiled. "Always you."

He pulled her closer to him, reveling in her warmth, and she let out a little sigh of contentment, her fingers still locked in his.

* * *

It was the eleventh day of training and she was absolutely exhausted.

She hadn't been this tired since S.H.I.E.L.D. training – and that was easy compared to this.

Kvasir was pushing her hard - twelve hours of training a day – and only after dinner did she have a little time to spend with Loki. This evening they were lightheartedly sparring in a meadow about five miles from Kvasir's hut – the day was rainy and gray, but that didn't matter to her.

Kvasir was training him too – she always watched when Kvasir worked with him, training with sword and spear and dagger and magic.

Loki's body flowed from movement to movement, raw grace, fluid and changing and deadly, years of experience touching his movements as it did not touch hers – but she could feel herself changing too, her mind leaping quicker, her body responding to the faintest touch of her mind. With her telekinesis, she could practically fly, and the range of her telepathy was increasing every day.

She startled a bit when Loki held his hand out to her. "Lost in thought?" he asked, only half teasing, and she frowned playfully at him. "You want to get beat up _again_?" she asked, sighing dramatically.

He laughed and pulled her up into his arms. "Remember the first time we sparred?" he whispered into her ear. "You said you were going to beat me up then too."

She smiled and twisted her hand – he dropped to the ground and she leisurely stepped over him and crouched next to him, playing with his rain-soaked hair.

"That's cheating," he said disgruntledly, still trying to move his limbs from where they were – pinned to the ground.

"I never play fair," she said with a smile. "Want to know who taught me that?"

She kissed him lightly, her lips soft against his. The telekinesis retracted from his body and his hands caught her cheeks and wound into her hair, damp from the rain.

They stayed like that for a moment more – she could have stayed like that forever – but the light rain turned to thunder, and she raised her head, frowning slightly. "I guess we should go back – " she started, but something in the wind was off, something was different – and her face blanched,_ a hundred bright shapes whirling down from the sky – no, a hundred and one_.

"What is it?" Loki asked, sitting up, his face concerned.

"Einherjar," she whispered. "And Thor. They're coming."

He tensed, then cursed, leaping to his feet, grabbing her hand. "Hurry!"

She ran with him, feet slipping slightly on the wet grass, but – "Loki, the hut is the other way!"

"We can't go back there," he shouted over the thunder, rumbling louder. "That's where they'll go – "

"But what about Kvasir?" she asked furiously. "We can't leave him!"

"He'll be fine, Alana – " and a stream of light shot from the sky on the horizon – near Kvasir's hut and she skidded to a halt. "Loki, I have to go back!"

"You can't," he shouted, his hand clenching hers tighter as he stopped too. "Alana, you can't!"

She pulled her hand from his. "He needs help!"

"The Einherjar won't hurt him, Alana!"

She stiffened and tensed, her hand automatically pressing against her side, against her scars, and she felt weak and faint, terrified again.

"Alana?" Loki shouted, his hands reaching out for her. "What's wrong?"

"N'itouri," she whispered.

* * *

Thor and the Einherjar had tracked Loki here, to Vanaheim and to Kvasir, and they landed in the forest in the rain.

Loki was not dead.

That was the first hope, the one that Alana Cooper had given him, months and months ago – before Sokovia, before Ultron.

That hope had quickly turned into bitterness. _He lied to me… again. He let me think him dead… again._

He had no hope that Loki had changed since then.

He emerged near the hut – it had changed little since the first time he stepped out with his newly fashioned armor.

Kvasir opened the door, his face impassive. "Hello, Thor."

"Where is Loki?" he asked, his voice a little rougher than was perhaps necessary.

Kvasir was about to speak, but the Einherjar began to shout and the clash of swords began to ring through the air and he whirled around – scaly gray aliens – _N'itouri, damn it_ – were attacking them, slashing at his men, and they were falling.

An explosion lit the sky as he flew towards the N'itouri, Mjolnir guiding his swings – three, four dead, but the Einherjar were still falling, some of them turning on each other – _damn it, the N'itouri are shapeshifting_ – seven, eight dead, but they outnumbered them.

He swung Mjolnir again and again, drawing the fight away, slowly, from Kvasir's hut. _He is a fool for harboring Loki, but he was a friend._

And then two dark shapes skidded into the battle – he turned, Mjolnir raised to strike, and froze.

Loki and – Alana? – were there, and Loki was fighting with a fervor he had never seen before, smiting N'itouri, one after the other.

And Alana – _how in Hel did she get here, and – was that armor made by Kvasir?_ \- was flying into the sky, her fingers moving slightly, and wherever she pointed a N'itouri hissed and died.

He flung himself back into the battle, and slowly, the tide began to turn – they were winning.

The last N'itouri fell at the hands of Alana, who dropped lightly down to the ground facing him, Loki by her side.

He strode towards Loki, not sure if he intended to murder him or embrace him, and was a foot away when another explosion lit the night – coming from the direction of Kvasir's hut.

Loki and Alana turned rapidly, Alana's hands flying up to her mouth.

Loki turned back to him. "Look after her," he said desperately, and he spun and ran off towards the fire.

"Loki!" Alana shouted after him, tears in her eyes. "You can't – there isn't – " but she paused, a tear slipping out of her eye, and ran after him.

He followed.

* * *

He stumbled through the smoke, searching frantically, shouting Kvasir's name until his throat was raw.

He reached the hut – smoking and burnt, reduced to timber and rubble, studded with the vials of glowing light – _of all the things to make invulnerable - _ but there were specks of white against the dark and the smoke.

Bones.

He sank to his knees and screamed, rough and raw, the way he had when Frigga died, and Alana was there, suddenly, her arms holding him tight as he shook, the grinning skull seared into his mind – her arms around him, and he could feel her tears dropping onto his head as she pressed her lips to his hair.

He held onto her for a long, long time, clutching her like a drowning man a raft.


	47. Saturn

**A/N: LOOK AT ME, I ACTUALLY POSTED IN TWO WEEKS!**

***confetti***

**Hope you guys like the chapter! Sadly, next chapter won't be for probably three weeks as the end of January is midterms... sorry about that. After that I'll try to get back to a two-week posting schedule.**

**bluescarfman (Guest) : Hey! Glad to know you're still here. :) I'm super glad you liked the armor, and there's a lot more awkward Thor and Loki in this chapter! Ha. Sorry about the dying... have another chapter?**

* * *

**TWENTY-THREE**

* * *

_You taught me the courage of stars before you left._  
_How light carries on endlessly, even after death._  
_With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite._  
_How rare and beautiful it is to even exist._

_I couldn't help but ask_  
_For you to say it all again._  
_I tried to write it down_  
_But I could never find a pen._  
_I'd give anything to hear_  
_You say it one more time,_  
_That the universe was made_  
_Just to be seen by my eyes_

_\- "Saturn," Sleeping at Last_

* * *

She knelt in the ashes of Kvasir's hut, gathering the glass vials that contained the truths.

She had a feeling that he would have wanted her – them – to save them, but Loki had gone off into the forest, and Thor was speaking to what was left of the Einherjar, who had begun the slow process of recovering their wounded and dead.

She gathered the vials in her arms, feeling the memories swarming inside.

The second the explosion had happened, the light that had been Kvasir's mind had gone out – the brightest light in her mind gone, the darkness rushing through where he had been.

She had known there was no hope from that second on – and Loki's face had torn her in two, his eyes full of pain and anger and horror, and his scream had pierced her like a dagger – and he had shook in her arms for what felt like a year, his head tucked into her chest like a child.

She knew what Kvasir had meant to him, and she remembered her own father, briefly, a pang filling her heart.

Thor crouched down next to her and began to help with the vials.

"How did you come to be on Vanaheim?" he asked after a pause.

She pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "After I left you and Jane – a long time ago – Loki came to my house, and… well, helped me get my memories back."

Thor's eyes assessed her. "You are in love with him." And was that a tinge of disgust in his voice, or was it concern?

She nodded silently. "He… went back to Asgard after I got my memories back. Back to prison. And then… well, I got attacked by the N'itouri, and Odin let him come help me, and then he sort of hid us from Heimdall so that he wouldn't have to go back." She paused, acutely aware of how terrible that sounded. "Um, and then we came here."

Thor shook his head slightly, grabbing another vial. "Loki must be returned to Asgard. Immediately."

"I'm coming with you."

Thor looked at her. "You may have powers, Alana Cooper, but trust me when I say that you should stay away from Asgard. You do not remember meeting my father, but he will greet you with hostility if you return again."

"No. I need to go to Asgard."

"For what purpose?" Thor's eyes were tinged with sorrow. "Loki will only betray you a thousand times, like he has everyone."

She shook her head fiercely. "He won't."

Thor sighed. "I fought to see the light in him for so long, and every time – _every time_ – he has betrayed me. The person… the brother that I once knew is dead."

She raised her head. "Not to me."

* * *

The tree shook in front of him – he thrust his hands forward again, jagged green light cracking the bark – again, again, until the tree was swaying and came down with a crash.

He blasted the tree trunk some more, the anger and sorrow fueling his magic, until he had a section of trunk that was roughly nine feet in length.

He began to carve the wood, chipping away at the outside to roughly create the shape of a boat.

Frigga's funeral must have been a splendid affair – he had no doubt that all of Asgard would have appeared to see their queen sent to Valhalla – but Kvasir's was to be made with his sweat and his blood.

He worked feverishly, relishing the feel of the blisters forming on his palms, the ache of his back, the sweat running down his face.

* * *

She entered the forest; fingertips brushing the trunks, feeling Loki's light a little ways away.

It was strange – the explosions had scared all the animals away, and she could feel only him near her, his mind pulsing in sorrow and rage.

She made her way towards him, standing behind him as he worked – carving a boat, it seemed – and she touched her fingers to his shoulder.

"Loki," she said softly, but he seemed not to hear, his hands still flashing over the wood.

"Loki," she said again, kneeling down beside him. "Look at me."

"I'm fine," he said shortly, his eyes still fixed in front of him.

"No."

She touched his hand lightly, covering it with hers, and his movements stopped, the dagger slowing until it was still.

She took it from his hands and placed it in the dirt, taking his face in her hands.

"I know," she whispered, "I know, Loki."

A tear caught at the corner of his eye, and he pressed his forehead to hers.

"Don't leave me," he said softly. "Ever, Alana, please – " and he cut off, his eyes closed, as another tear slipped out.

She held him, his face pressed to her shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I'm so sorry, Loki."

* * *

The boat carried Kvasir's bones down the river, sparks leaping into the night sky as the fire crackled red.

Alana's hand held his firmly, and Thor stood next to him – this was something he could have never imagined and he almost smiled – Thor on one side, Alana on the other, watching Kvasir burn?

Alana's armor was dark now, black as night, and her eyes were sad, their gray seeming to be filled with the smoke from the fire.

He studied her face for a second, watching her – she stood still, her eyes fixed on the flames.

He looked back to the fire, and for a moment he could see Kvasir teaching him the subtleties of magic, his eyes rolling impatiently, his long sighs, and yet, there had been moments when Kvasir had looked proud of him, had smiled and clasped his shoulder, saying, _you are a good man, Loki._

The three of them stood and watched the sparks climb up into the air, the flames burning high in the dark.

* * *

He had wanted to leave quickly – he knew what Kvasir had meant to Loki, but there was no telling what Odin would do if he were kept waiting – but Alana had convinced him to stay another night.

"Just one," she had said, when he looked skeptical. "I promise we won't escape again."

He had sent the Einherjar back to Asgard – the ones still alive bearing the bodies of their comrades – but he did not trust Loki to return of his own free will.

He watched him and Alana from a distance – she was sitting next to him, her head on his shoulder.

It was so _odd_ to see Loki like this – there had been women in both their pasts, but Loki had guarded himself carefully, and he had never much seemed to care when a fleeting relationship was done. Loki had been the one to comfort Thor when he had had his "heart broken" – he smiled a bit, he had been quite dramatic when he was young – and when he had teased Loki about a woman, he had always shrugged it off.

But this…

He remembered her sitting on Jane's couch, showing him the portrait of Loki, his eyes laughing in a way he could barely remember, the hope in her eyes when she had heard that Loki was his brother...

She seemed so different then when he had met her, stronger, more sure of herself. She was obviously free of her amnesia, and was gifted, especially for a mortal – he had seen how she had taken down the N'itouri.

He watched silently as Alana lay down on the ground, curling up to sleep, as Loki stood up, brushing himself off, and walked towards him.

"I am sorry, Loki," he said finally. "I know what Kvasir was to you."

Loki nodded absentmindedly, his eyes fixed where Alana lay.

They stood there in silence – what should he say? What could he say?

"I owe you an apology as well," Loki finally said, his eyes not meeting his.

He looked at Loki incredulously. "I believe you owe me several."

Loki smiled a bit at that, tilting his head up to look at the sky. "War is coming," he said softly. "Kvasir told me that."

"He was not wrong."

Silence dropped over them again.

Loki sighed slightly and met his eyes. "If I _were_ to apologize… would you accept it, brother?"

His use of the word brought back so many memories – _You're not my brother, you never were _– and he shook his head slightly. "I do not know you anymore."

"You're wrong," Loki said. "You always knew me best."

He raised his eyebrows, looking pointedly at Alana. "Not anymore, it would seem."

Loki rolled his eyes, but there was a certain tenderness in his gaze as he looked at her shape on the ground. "I've missed _this_, for sure."

"You asked me to look after her."

Loki straightened, his eyes still fixed on her. "I need her safe, Thor."

He shook his head. "How could you have said such things to me about Jane when you – you were hiding this? Hiding her?"

Loki closed his eyes. "She was taken from me. By those that you would call friends, and… I will admit it, Thor, I was full of rage, and… well. Thanos did not have much work to do before I was convinced that ruling Midgard would save us both."

Loki's eyes reached for his, a spark of desperation tingeing them. "Would you not have done the same?"

He sighed. "I cannot say."

Loki's gaze turned back to her and he sighed softly.

"Keep her safe for me, Thor, while I am - no, she will be safe without you, but… she has been wounded, she has been hunted – and although she is strong…" he sighed again, "I need her safe," he repeated.

He looked at Loki. "She cannot come to Asgard, brother."

Loki closed his eyes. "Odin will want to see her."

"For what reason?"

"She has taken Kvasir's place as the telepath of the realms."

He furrowed his brow, and said, "Loki – " but he was cut off as Loki said, "Trust me, brother."

He scoffed at that. "Since when?"

Loki smiled faintly.

* * *

She couldn't sleep.

It wasn't the hardness of the ground or the damp grass – it wasn't that she was uncomfortable in Loki's arms, feeling him breathe steadily, his chest against her back, his arms cradling her gently – no, it was a memory that kept returning to her, her own father, lying on the ground, eyes open, blood pooling around him, that night so long ago…

She shifted slightly and closed her eyes, feeling the lights around her – Loki, close and bright and warm, and Thor, sitting near the fire, keeping watch.

She touched Loki's mind, gently, letting his dreams wash over her, warm and soft, and she pressed closer to him, sleep coming slowly and steadily.

* * *

She awoke early the next morning and gently freed herself from Loki's arms, leaving him deep in sleep, brushing the dew off her armor – still stealth black, mourning black.

Thor's eyes were tired as she greeted him good morning and sat next to him on the log, staring with him into the ashes of the fire, not quite sure what to say.

Loki stirred after a bit and opened his eyes – he stood up, stretching slightly, running a hand through his hair, and sat next to her, kissing her cheek.

Thor stood up. "We must return."

She wound her fingers into Loki's, unsure – what would happen to him when he went back?

_Please don't take him away from me again._

Loki squeezed her hand once and they stood up.

After a thought, she twisted her gauntlet; the black faded away, shimmering to blue and gold.

Loki smiled slightly.

Thor looked up to the sky, calling, "Heimdall!"

There was a pause, and then the sky erupted, light violently pulling her feet from the ground, Loki's hand the only thing she could feel other than the rushing – but the stars were so close, flying by, she could touch them, if she wanted – and the light dragged her along and finally trailed away from her, trying to keep its grip but failing - and she was in a giant golden dome.

There was a man standing there, looking at her intently with eyes like golden fire, his mind a fiery pillar, and she inhaled slightly.

"Welcome to Asgard," he said, his voice deep and low, his eyes still fixed on her. "Again."

She smiled tentatively.

He looked at Thor and said, "There are horses outside."

* * *

Twenty thrilling minutes later – she had ridden before, but not down a rainbow bridge of glass with Loki by her side – they dismounted in a courtyard, golden-helmed men standing around the walls, watching them – watching Loki.

Thor had led them to the palace, and she tried to suppress a gasp of astonishment as they entered the throne room, biting her lip hard.

Loki looked sideways at her and smiled slightly.

A man with white hair sat on the throne, a golden staff in his hand – she recognized Odin from the memories Kvasir had shown her.

He was looking directly at her.

"Why did you bring her here?" he asked.

"Allfather," Loki started, stepping forward but Odin made a little gesture with his hand, his eyes fixed on her. "Not you."

"Kvasir is dead, Father," Thor began, "and – "

She stepped forward, interrupting him. "I am the telepath of the realms, now that he has gone."

She could feel Loki's worry burning next to her, but she ignored it and continued. "I am to protect the realms as Kvasir once did."

Odin leaned forward slightly. "A Midgardian child is the next _armustar_?" He raised his eyebrow. "I highly doubt it."

She took a few steps forward now and Loki's concern flared brighter – _step back _– she could almost hear him pleading, but she would not back down, it was her right.

She closed her eyes and touched Odin's mind, ancient and growing, his thoughts – mainly focused on her (was that how everyone saw her? She looked so odd.)

She opened her eyes and was struck for a second by the strangeness – one of her eyes would not see.

Odin recoiled slightly in his throne.

She let the connection fade away, feeling her vision return, and knelt, clasping one arm over her breast.

"I swear to serve the realms as Kvasir did before me, Odin Allfather. You need have no fear of me."

* * *

He had convened an emergency meeting of the Council.

This was beyond what he could have expected – Loki's Midgardian toy, the next _armustar_, pledging her allegiance to him and to the realms?

Kvasir had been an asset to the realms – especially during the Battle of Jotunheim, so long ago (and that brought to mind her eyes – his eyes – looking back at him, one ruined and sightless, the other blue and piercing) and she could be of help if the situation with Thanos collapsed into open war.

He sighed. He had no doubt the war was coming soon.

Freya was bemused. "What would be the harm in allowing her to stay? She will help us, she has pledged her allegiance – "

"Need I remind you of her connection to Loki?" Tyr responded. "She could turn to his side– I have no doubt she is powerful in some other way besides telepathy – and he would have a ready-made weapon in the palace, waiting to fire wherever he wanted to point her!"

Freya scoffed. "She is not a weapon, Tyr. She is an _armustar._ She has a will of her own and did not blindly follow Loki here."

"That is true," Heimdall said, his voice rumbling through the room.

"And how long has it been since you loved, Tyr?" Freya asked. "How long has it been since Zisa died?"

Tyr's face went cold, and he said shortly, "A thousand years."

"Enough," Odin said firmly. "The problem that we face is whether the _armustar_ should remain on Asgard or return to Midgard."

"Stay," Freyr said immediately and Freya nodded as well. Tyr stared at them in disbelief.

Freyr sighed at the look on Tyr's face. "She will need to train if she will be helpful to us."

Odin looked to Heimdall, who gave one slow nod.

He sighed and stood. "We are decided then."

He was about to dismiss the Council when Heimdall said, "She will need a lie, Allfather."

He sat back down, heavily. Heimdall was right. She could not be exposed as the _armustar_, nor as a Midgardian – it would make her a target, an object of whispers.

"We must think up a story!" Freyr exclaimed, rubbing his hands together, looking sideways at Tyr, then turning his glance to him. "She looked a bit like the Lady Sif, did she not, Allfather?"

Tyr stiffened. "Do not involve my daughter in your _schemes._"

Heimdall said quietly, "It would not be difficult to see them as related."

Tyr sat up straight. "That is absolutely ridiculous. You want a _Midgardian_ to pretend to be my _daughter_?"

"It would work," Freya added. "We could say that you had sent her off to Vanaheim to be raised there after Zisa's death."

Tyr stood, facing him, and said, "Your Majesty, this is preposterous and insulting. You cannot possibly be considering – "

"Silence," he said.

Tyr shut his mouth, although his brow was dark, his jaw clenched, and his face creased in anger.

The plan _was _feasible – Tyr's family had always been private, and the birth of a second daughter could have gone unnoticed by the public. The people would assume that Zisa had died in childbirth, or shortly after – she had always been sickly – and Asgard would be none the wiser that a Midgardian was living in the palace.

He could see that Tyr knew his decision, and did not approve.

"She will need a name," he said.

"Sigyn," Tyr said, his mouth still twisted, eyes still hard. "She will bring us victory… and if not…"

He turned and left the room, bowing his head to Odin shortly as the rest of the Council watched him go.

Freyr shrugged. "Sigyn it is, then."

* * *

Thor had ordered the Einherjar back to their posts after Odin had dismissed them, and glancing sideways at Alana and him, had said, "I'll be back in a minute."

He had kissed her gently, his hand touching her cheek - he could feel her pulse racing fast and the look in her eyes told him that she was scared.

She had buried her head in his chest, her fingers hooking into his armor. "Don't leave," she whispered. "I don't – I can't – "

He stroked her hair. "Everything will be all right, Alana."

She looked back up at him. "I'll see you again," he said quietly. "Soon." He gave her a small smile and kissed her on the forehead.

She inhaled deeply and stepped away from him – at the same second, Thor entered the room.

She nodded slightly, her eyes shifting to green, and he heard her say, _I love you._

He had not needed to reply – she could see what was etched into his mind – and a small smile spread across her face.

That was the memory that he would take with him – that was the memory that he would hold close.

* * *

Thor had shown her to her room, which she was walking around curiously.

There was a large balcony that overlooked the city – it was so high that it made her dizzy, in a wonderful sort of way – the floor was paved with stone, a fire roaring high and bright, and she traced her fingers down the walls. _How old are these stones? What – who – have they seen?_

Sunlight spilled into the room, and she felt suddenly exhausted, pressing her head to the wall.

Loki was returning to his prison cell, for now; she had wanted to accompany him there but he had refused – she could see the reason in his mind – _don't see me there._

The Council was deciding her fate – again, it would seem – and Loki was gone again, and the only difference was that she was on Asgard, not Earth.

She sighed and walked over to the bed, which looked comfortable and warm, twisting the dials of her gauntlets so that the armor regressed to the charm.

She collapsed into the bed, but she was drowning in empty space… where were his arms to hold her?

* * *

A hand shook her arm gently the next morning, and, with her eyes still sleepy, she was about to say his name, curl into his arms – but the light, the mind next to her was different and she sat up straight in bed, her hand shooting up to protect her – N'itouri? Einherjar?

A very startled woman was standing there, eyes wide. "My lady?" she asked tentatively. "Are you all right?"

_My lady?_

_You've got to be kidding me._

"I'm fine, yes, thank you," she said quickly, ducking her head, so that the woman could not see her eyes changing color. _Lady Sigyn_ she heard and_ arrived last night from Vanaheim _and _She does look quite like Lady Sif. _ "Just… a nightmare."

The woman seemed satisfied with that explanation and said, "My lady, the Council wishes to meet with you."

"Okay," she said, and grimaced internally. _Talk like Loki, damn it. _"Do they require me immediately?"

The woman shook her head. "Of course not, my lady. You must robe yourself first."

"I have my armor," she said, swinging her legs out of the bed. "I did not bring any – " and she remembered Loki in the laundry room and socks sticking to her face – "any gowns with me."

The woman looked at her, puzzled. "Of course not, my lady."

She stood up, stretching, as the woman walked to a door set in the wall that she had not explored yesterday.

Her jaw opened slightly – she closed it quickly, and followed her into a room full of dresses in blue and purple and yellow and green.

The woman began to select a few.

"Are these all for me?" she asked.

The woman nodded. "Of course, my lady."

The woman helped her dress in a sleeveless gown of dark blue silk that felt so light and airy it was like she was wearing nothing at all – she turned the dial on her gauntlets and watched them turn into the thin golden bands around her arms.

Her hair was braided elaborately and piled onto her head, gold slippers placed on her feet, and she felt extremely uncomfortable and highly fake.

_More fake than pretending to be an Aesir? _a sardonic voice that sounded a bit like Loki asked.

She smiled faintly.

There was a knock on the door and the woman went to answer it. She returned and said, "Prince Thor, my lady. Shall I show him in?"

"Yes, thank you," she responded, and the woman curtseyed and disappeared. Thor came in a few seconds later, his eyes widening slightly. "You look quite different."

"Is she gone?" she whispered, and Thor nodded.

She relaxed, her shoulders dropping, feeling about two inches shorter. "What the _hell_ is going on?"

The corner of Thor's mouth turned up. "I believe you are being adopted."

He escorted her downstairs – she was grateful for his help, the palace was enormous – and into the throne room again.

"You are in front of the Council," he said to her quietly, "so there will be no need to bow."

"Thank you," she whispered. He nodded and gestured for her to walk forwards.

There were four men there – Odin, Heimdall, a smiling blond man, a dark haired man who looked frustrated and angry at the same time, and two women, one blond, one brunette.

She stood in front of them and waited.

Finally, Odin spoke. "Alana Cooper," he said, "we have decided to allow you to stay."

She had already guessed that, based on how she was dressed.

Odin's eye narrowed, as if he could read her mind, too.

"The position of _armustar_ is not one to be taken lightly. You will be responsible for a number of tasks – but you must train first. And in order to train, you must take a new identity."

The dark-haired man stepped forwards, a muscle twitching in his jaw, and even if she were not a telepath she could read the waves of suppressed anger emanating from him.

"You will pose as my daughter," he said, his jaw clenched.

The dark-haired woman stepped forwards as well. "And as my sister," she said.

"Lady Sif," she said, and curtseyed. "Lord Tyr."

Both their eyes widened slightly, and would it be bad to say that she was enjoying this just a little?

Odin said, "Lady Sif, please go with the Lady Sigyn."

Sif descended the stairs, looking back at Odin once. He nodded. "You are dismissed."

Sif turned to her. "Come, sister. We must talk."

* * *

Sif had been talking for over an hour now – at least she thought it was an hour, she really didn't have any way of telling the time – telling her about her family and her father, weaving the lie tighter and tighter.

She could see that this was not her way – she was a fierce warrior, yes, and slightly hotheaded from time to time, but generally preferred to listen, not to speak.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked Sif. "Why are you helping me?"

Sif looked at her, puzzled. "It is the Allfather's command."

"Yes, I know, but – I mean, I'm intruding on your entire history. Who knows how long you'll have to pretend that I'm your sister?"

Sif raised her eyebrows. "You speak candidly. I like that." She sighed. "In truth, Sigyn – " _that name was so weird, it would take _ages _to get used to people calling her that – _"Thor told me a bit about you."

She stopped walking "He did?"

_Damn it, if he told her about Loki and I… _

Sif nodded. "He told me that he could not quite understand you, but that he thought you had a good heart."

She raised her eyebrows. "Really?"

Sif furrowed her brow. "Why, did he not give you that impression?"

She shrugged. "I was thinking more like, 'You're absolutely insane and I cannot believe that I am taking you to Asgard'."

Sif rolled her eyes. "I grew up with Thor. I can read him like a book. He feels amiably towards you, I can see."

She smiled faintly. "Well, I'm glad to hear that."

She paused slightly, something Sif had just said registering with her. "You grew up with Thor?"

Sif nodded, a faint smile on her face.

"Then you must have grown up with Loki as well."

The smile dropped from Sif's face immediately. "Yes. I grew up with him. Though I sincerely wish that I hadn't."

Her eyes flicked down to Sif's hand, which was clenched into a fist, and she felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Sif turned around and began walking down the hallway again. She followed. "I presume you know of him from the chaos that he caused in Midgard?" Sif asked.

The sinking feeling knotted into a ball. "Yes," she said casually.

Sif frowned a little. "I do not wish to speak of him any longer. He is where he belongs now."

She followed Sif in silence as she began to speak of her – their – great grandmother, her heart twisted and heavy.

* * *

Her sketchbook was just where he had left it before his extended stay on Midgard – in fact, the whole room looked the same. The Einherjar had obviously been confident in their ability to return him before the cell was needed.

He lay on the bed, perusing the sketchbook – he had looked through it a thousand times but was aching for her touch, so he touched the lines instead. _Her hand touched the pencil touched the paper touched my hand._

He felt a presence approach his cell and sat up, letting the sketchbook fall closed onto the covers.

"Thor."

"Loki."

"You're spoiling me. Visiting me a day after you took me to prison? I'm touched."

Thor sighed, cutting straight to the point. "She will stay on Asgard."

A little flicker emerged in his chest – _thank the Norns, at least she'll be safe._

"And?"

Thor looked him straight in the eyes. "She has been taken into Tyr's family."

"Damn."

He knew Tyr's disapproval of other species, and could only imagine his reaction now that he had a Midgardian in his family. And now she was… oh dear gods, Sif's sister? He wrinkled his nose. "Well. I hope she'll survive it."

Thor raised his eyebrows. "It will be difficult, to say the least," he said, the corner of his mouth turning up.

He smiled faintly, and it would have felt like old days if not for the pit in his stomach and the barrier of light separating Thor from him.

Thor cleared his throat, and stepped a little closer to the cell. "I cannot stay long, but… on Vanaheim, you asked me to take care of her."

He nodded slightly, locking his fingers behind his back.

Thor looked away for a second. "On Svartalfheim, you took care of Jane when I could not."

Thor's eyes met his again, determined and resolute. "I will protect her, Loki, like you protected Jane. That is all that I can do for you."

He closed his eyes briefly, and he remembered pushing Jane out of the way of the implosion bomb – his only thought,_ Thor should not lose her like I lost Alana – it will be all right if he loses me_.

He opened his eyes. "Thank you, brother."

Thor nodded once, turned, and left.

Loki lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. _Thank you._


	48. Right Here Waiting

**A/N: Hello all!**

**Back with another chapter today, yay!**

**I don't write for reviews, but they really do help to motivate me, and it's a little sad when I see that 100+ people read the last chapter and no one reviewed.**

**So, don't be a ghost, and make my day!  
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**Love you all! Hugs!****  
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* * *

**TWENTY-FOUR**

* * *

_Oceans apart, day after day_  
_And I slowly go insane_  
_I hear your voice on the line_  
_But it doesn't stop the pain_

_If I see you next to never_  
_How can we say forever?_

_\- "Right Here Waiting," Richard Marx_

* * *

_He stands by the side of the river, Thor next to him, watching the boat burn – he turns to look for Alana, but he cannot find her. He looks back to Thor, panic rising in his chest, and Thor merely points to the boat._

_His heart drops and he runs into the water, dark and cold and heavy, sinking into his clothes, but he struggles through, finally reaching the boat, hooking his arms over the side – and she is lying pale and still, flowers wreathing her hair, a sword clasped in her hands._

_He clambers into the boat, kneeling over her, clutching her face, cold and white, no, no, no, no, and her eyes snap open, piercing green, and he shudders. "Wake up," she says, one cold hand reaching for his face. "Loki, wake up."_

He sat up, panting, one hand stretching to the other side of the bed… empty again.

_Loki?_

But her voice is still there, and – oh, gods, he can feel her again, the slight pressure, the little light inside his mind. "Alana?" he whispered hoarsely.

_Hi._

He ran a hand through his hair. "How – "

_I've been looking for you, but I didn't know where the dungeons were and I think they have a bit of a shield on them, but – I haven't been practicing my telepathy as much as I should, and – anyways._

_I miss you._

He smiled faintly. "I miss you too," he murmured, lying back down on the bed.

_Are you okay?_

He raised his eyebrows. "Broadly speaking."

He could practically hear her sigh. _I'm sorry I can't visit._

"I know, love, don't worry. I'm fine."

His nightmares were getting worse, night after night – no blessed peace with her now, only scars blanketing her body and blood trickling out of her mouth and trying to save her, again and again and again, to no avail.

_I know._

He winced. "I am fine, Alana, really."

He heard an audible grunt of pain inside his head.

_Ow._

"Are you all right?"

_Asgardians punch harder than humans. I'm getting used to it._

The corners of his mouth turned up. "Are you… sparring?"

Silence, then, _Maybe._

"Sparring and talking to me at the same time? And is that going well?"

_Well, you're a bit distracting – ow! – but it's okay. I'm getting better at it._

He smiled.

Another grunt and then, _Okay, that's definitely not fair._

"Who are you fighting?"

_This blond friend of Sif's who thinks he's God's gift to women everywhere._

"That would be Fandral. He favors his left-hand side, just so you know."

_Thanks._

She didn't speak for a while, and he lay on his cot, a small smile on his lips and a faint tinge of sorrow in his heart, imagining her in the sunlight, laughing and fighting – he wished that he could see her too, be there too – oh, gods, Fandral was probably flirting with her.

He could feel her laugh. _I'm sword fighting and _that's_ what you're worried about, Loki, really?_

He raised his eyebrows. "Don't deny it."

She laughed again. _He's trying – not really getting anywhere. I mean, really. His pick-up lines aren't even _good.

Another couple of grunts from her and then finally a sigh of relief.

_Thank goodness that's over._

"Did you win?"

_Barely. Thor was watching and laughing the entire time. I mean, it was pretty funny, but still… I miss training with you._

"I know, love."

She sighed slightly. _I need to go, Loki… I'm sorry._

"It's all right. Go train."

_I love you._

"You know I love you too."

And his mind was empty again – the warmth of her presence gone in the blink of an eye.

* * *

She unbraided her hair and tapped her gauntlets, sighing deeply as her armor retreated, peeling off her sweat-drenched clothes.

She trained with the Einherjar every day, but she missed Kvasir. The way he had taught her – well. The Einherjar taught by example, with tactics honed from years and years of training, but Kvasir had known how to teach _her._

She had found Loki's mind in the middle of a heated match between one of Sif's friends – Fandral, Loki had said – and herself. She was not very good with a sword, but some training (and her telekinesis) had factored in, allowing her to narrowly beat him.

But just to touch Loki's mind again… she had been trying to find him for several weeks now, to no avail.

She sighed and stepped into the bathtub, full of hot water and soap, allowing her sore muscles to unwind.

She floated there in the water for a while, just thinking.

Loki was hurting, she knew – the nightmare she had found him in proved that, and he was so _lonely_ that it physically ached to touch his mind.

She sank under the water, holding her breath.

She missed his touch, his smile, his laugh, the way he would hold her – his very presence soothing and calm.

She resurfaced and sighed again.

Who knows when she would see him again? She had heard some rumors amongst the Einherjar of the prisoners, but ones regarding Loki were noticeably absent.

But Odin couldn't keep him there for long…

* * *

He paced the floor day after day, wearing out the soft leather soles of his shoes until they were hanging by threads and he could not wear them anymore.

So he took them off and tossed them aside and paced in bare feet – it hurt after a while, more than he had expected.

As his feet blistered and reddened, he thought, and thought, and thought.

_There is nothing else to do._

And images from his nightmares were creeping into the daytime… a bloodied hand reaching for him; her face, bruised and pale; Kvasir's skull grinning from the dirt…

He felt as if he was losing his mind.

The meal for that day arrived – meat and fruit and vegetables, standard fare – and he pushed it aside – how could he eat?

He _lived_ for the moments, few and far between, when Alana could break through the barriers of the prison and talk to him – he felt the light, the warmth, not just in his mind but in his chest, painfully, wonderfully warm – and she soothed him and made him smile but it was getting harder and harder, and each day felt like forever, each hour felt like a lifetime of pain.

* * *

She dodged an axe and thrust her hand towards Volstagg's chest – he went flying backwards, but Einherjar poured towards her, filling the empty space. She felt a sword whistling towards her and stopped it inches from her shoulder with a wave of her hand, spinning, and thrusting her sword towards the Einherjar, whose eyes widened as her blade stopped an inch from his neck.

Then she was gone again, leaping over their heads and sprinting across the courtyard, twenty plated men running after her, swords drawn, roaring their battle cry – and she laughed in pure delight, running across the courtyard – and men and women stopped their sparring and watched in confusion as she sprinted past them, the Einherjar close behind.

One threw his sword at her; she stopped it in midair and it clattered to the ground, lost in the stampede of feet.

She stopped running and turned towards the crowd – three, two, one – and pushed out her hands, feeling the power inside her, pushing back the Einherjar like a wave.

They flew backwards, and she caught all of them a few inches above the ground, placing them down gently, tendrils emanating from her mind, shooting out like tentacles, or a spiders' web – one for each of them.

They sat up, and she had to repress a smile at their faces.

Volstagg clapped her on the shoulder – hard. "Well fought, Lady Sigyn."

She smiled and said, "Thank you."

"But," he shook his finger at her, "you must work on fighting without your magic."

She sighed. "I know."

"Hand-to-hand tomorrow. Thor will be there."

She looked askance at him. "You're going to have me fight _Thor_?"

He laughed heartily. "Most certainly not. Well. At least not for the hand-to-hand bit."

He continued, "We have been keeping him updated on your progress, though."

She furrowed her brows. "What for?"

Volstagg looked slightly confused. "Well, you are one of his warriors, of course. And we have been training you to be part of his vanguard."

She nodded briefly. "All right," she said calmly, but inside her mind was whirling and her stomach was tight.

She had known that she was being trained to fight in battle, but suddenly it all seemed so much more real – she, part of Thor's vanguard, advancing into battle – into war.

Her throat felt constricted and she swallowed.

Volstagg noticed her hesitation and patted her on the shoulder, this time more gently. "Do not worry, Lady Sigyn. You will be safe under Thor. He protects his warriors, his vanguard most of all."

She nodded.

Volstagg patted her on the back once more and said, "Your training for the day is over."

She thanked him and headed back to the palace.

* * *

He hadn't eaten in days.

The nightmares were coming _so_ often now – even waking was no relief, the images would just _keep coming_ –

He ran a hand through his hair, his face damp with cold sweat.

_She smiles and he reaches to touch her cheeks, but his fingers are blue and the black spreads over her skin – she screams as she freezes to death – _

He shuddered.

What was _happening_ to him?

He paced back and forth, stumbling slightly as another overtook his mind –

_"__I never loved you," she whispers, a soft smile on her lips. "Never. Look at you – weak, cowardly, foolish. How could I?"_

_She stabs him in the heart and _he fell to his knees with a grunt of pain.

"Alana," he said, hoarsely. "Help – "

_Frigga is sitting beside him. "Your magic is weak, as is your will. Look at what you did, Loki. Look at the way he turned you, at the way you snapped like a twig underneath him. This is why we should have let you die."_

He fell on his hands and knees, fingers shaking. "Help," he whispered again.

_Thor, standing there with Alana clinging closely to him. "What you have done is unforgiveable," they say together, with one voice. "What you have wrought is irreversible." Her hands press to his chest, her face lifts, and he reaches down to kiss her – _

Curled up on the floor, breaths fast, harsh, not enough oxygen in the world –

_"__Loki," she smiles, dressed all in white, like a bride, "I love – " and then her eyes go wide with shock and betrayal - blood trickles from her lips and mouth and eyes and the gown is stained with red and he is holding a blood-stained dagger – _

"Stop – "

_A tombstone that reads KVASIR, and scrabbling in the dirt, hand over hand, desperately, frantically, and then he sees a skull whose mouth opens wide and says, "Leave me be, Loki, for once - you put me here, you know, why do you wake me now?"_

"Please – "

_"__Please? Please is why we are dead," Frigga and Kvasir say, their eyes dark and cold. "Please is why you could not save us, please is why you killed us."_

He moaned in agony – _make it stop, please, someone make it stop – _

_"__Like you stopped me?" Alana whispers, crouching down beside him, a finger to his lips. "Like how I turned to kiss you good morning and your hands burned me black?"_

_She lifts up her shirt to reveal dark handprints across her stomach, black streaks of violence and pain._

_"__You said you didn't mean to, but you meant every second, you _enjoyed_ it, didn't you?"_

_She smiled. "But I still love you, Loki – forever." And he reached for her, but she dissolved in a burst of green light and he was left kneeling in front of a flaming boat sailing on a sea of dark water – _

"No, stop – "

He curled up tighter on the floor, hands pressed against his head.

"Help," he whispered as the images came again. "Alana, help."

* * *

She was fighting Sif hand-to-hand when something went terribly wrong.

A little spasm of pain in her mind, a whisper of a thought from far away – _Alana, help_ – and she froze completely.

Sif would have taken advantage of her sudden inability to move, but she automatically threw up a shield – Sif frowned and said something, but she couldn't hear her – her mind was focused on the corner of the dungeons where Loki should have been.

And there was something there that she couldn't get past – she couldn't find Loki, only little flickers of his mind, in and out, wracked with pain – and Sif was looking concerned now, reaching for her, but she brushed her off.

_Loki, what's wrong?_ she asked, but she couldn't get through to him – she concentrated harder but still nothing – _Loki, talk to me!_

Nothing.

Thor was walking towards her now, eyebrows knotted in confusion. "Sigyn, what – "

Sif said, "Something's wrong, she just – "

She whipped her hand up to Thor's head, two fingers against his temple, and pushed – _damn, he has good barriers – _his eyes screwed shut and he inhaled sharply as she told him what she had felt.

_Something's wrong with Loki. I can barely feel him, he's in pain - we need to get down there. Now._

She was vaguely aware of a dozen golden swords ringing her, aimed at her neck, as she removed her hand from Thor's head.

He opened his eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking straight at her.

She nodded. "Yes."

He nodded grimly and noticed the blades surrounding her. "Lower your weapons," he ordered, then turned and quickly began walking towards the palace.

She followed him.

He led the way to the dungeons, but stopped just outside the doors, heavy and wooden and framed in rusting iron. "Wait here," he said.

She scoffed. "Like _hell_ I'm waiting outside, Thor."

His eyes were serious as he said, "You should not be seen with him."

"I don't care," she hissed. "If you think that I'm going to –"

"You must. If anyone – _anyone_ – sees you with him, questions are going to be asked. It's already suspicious enough that you arrived on Asgard at the same time. This could be the tipping point of the balance - "

"Thor," she growled, "I don't care if you're the future king of Asgard, I _will_ knock you out."

"He will not want you to see him like this."

"You need me. _He_ needs me."

"Stay here," he said, and entered the dungeons, the door creaking shut behind them.

She stayed there, fists unclenching and clenching, for an agonizing minute and a half, then pushed open the door tentatively.

_Loki? _she called out. _Loki, can you hear me?_

A flash of a red cape in the corner of her eye – then Thor was there, shoving his way through the doors, his arms full of something – someone –

She reached out for Loki – his face covered with sweat, paler than she had ever seen it; his hands, limp; his eyes screwed shut in pain – she reached for him, but Thor pressed past her, his eyes fixed straight ahead, walking quickly down the hall.

She pressed a hand to her mouth, blinking back the tears, and followed.

* * *

"To your rooms, Lady Sigyn," Odin said, his voice stern and full of anger. "_Now._"

He had met them outside of Loki's rooms, barring her access to them as Thor slipped by.

She clenched her jaw. "Allfather, I can help – "

"You have endangered yourself and Loki by following Thor here. The halls are not empty and _servants talk_."

"I can't just leave him – "

"You can, and you will," he said, coldly. "You must. Now."

She inhaled deeply, and for one second she could see herself pushing past Odin –

She bowed her head stiffly and made her way to her chambers.

* * *

"Alana," he moaned softly, "No – don't – "

Thor sat by his bedside, watching as Loki flinched and moaned and screamed. _Who has done this to him?_

"And you are sure that he is not merely acting?" Odin said quietly to Eir, the head healer.

Thor felt a small explosion of anger in his chest. _Alana felt it._

But Odin would say that she was only acting, too…

Eir shook her head. "We cannot say for certain, but his mind map is convulsed and twisted. It's almost as if there is a living virus in his mind, planting the images – and those are not an act, I can assure you. I have seen them…"

Loki tossed his head and moaned something incoherent.

Odin sighed. "Very well." He nodded and Eir took her leave.

Thor clenched his hand into a fist. This was a scenario he remembered well enough, from childhood – the occasional infection that Loki could not seem to shake – and Frigga had sat with him, sponging his forehead and holding his hand.

He had resented, mildly, the affection that Loki received during those periods of illness, and had made up for it by going out all the more with Sif and the Warriors Three.

And yet, the few times that their roles had been reversed, and Thor was the one lying sick in his bed, Loki had stayed with him even more than Frigga, reading aloud to him, or merely sitting there in silence – and one night, when Loki had thought he was asleep, he had heard him whispering spells, green light flashing slightly over his chest, cool fingers placed over his heart.

The next day, Loki had been paler than usual, but Thor felt nearly back to normal.

He had known that Loki had healed him, but had never let on – not even when Loki fell ill with the same sickness the day after that.

And now here they were again, and he had heard Alana's voice, barely controlled as she pleaded with Odin to let her see him, and her footsteps against the stone floors as she left.

"Come, Thor," Odin said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "There is nothing more we can do at the moment, and I have need of you in the Council-room."

"No," he said quietly. "I will stay with him, Father."

Odin's fingers tightened slightly on his shoulder. "Do you forget what he has done?"

He was almost glad that Loki could not hear Odin, could almost see the look on his face, the mask that covered the pain.

"Do you forget that he is your son?" he asked, raising his head to meet the Allfather's gaze.

Odin's eye narrowed. "He is not."

He turned and left the room and Thor turned back to Loki.

After only a moment of hesitation, he took Loki's hand, cool as ever, his hand much smaller than Thor's.

_Be well, brother._

* * *

She paced around her room anxiously.

She had tried to touch Loki's mind so many times now, and to no avail.

She was having trouble distinguishing which mind was his, and flashed around the castle – she could tell who nearly everyone was, except for him.

It didn't _feel_ like Loki – it felt wrong and dark and not like him – there were only bits and pieces that she could recognize.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair.

If only Odin had let her in – if only she could have seen him, she could have _helped._

There was a knock on the door and one of the servants stepped in. "Lady Sigyn?" he asked. "Will you require dinner in your chambers? Will anyone… be staying here this evening?"

His words were charged with insinuation, and she furrowed her brow slightly, mind racing – _what if they know about Loki? Damn it all to hell – _and Odin had said, _the servants talk,_ and was she safe anymore? Was he safe? Was this a cruel joke played on her before they revealed her to all of Asgard?

She noticed that she was beginning to breathe slightly faster and quickly wiped her face into a polite smile.

"Yes, dinner would be lovely," she answered formally. "Thank you."

He bowed and left the room.

* * *

The kitchen was buzzing with news of Lady Sigyn.

"Put her hand up to his face as quick as lightning – "

"He was staring at her for an age – "

" – got competition now, doesn't that mortal – "

"Well, at least this one's from a proper family, a Tyrdottir, you know, and of course it'll break Sif's heart, but really, I mean – "

" – Went rushing off, the two of them, thick as thieves, I say – "

" - and according to Narya, he's been visiting her chambers – "

"Shut up in Loki's old chambers, and she was begging to see him, poor Thor, we've always known he missed Loki, Norns bless him – "

"Well, he wouldn't let us move anything after he fell, d'you remember? Would stay in there for hours – "

The servant slipped down into the commotion, weaving his way through the crowd, until he reached the head cook. He tapped her on the shoulder. "Lady Sigyn wishes to eat in her room tonight."

The cook raised her eyebrows. "And?"

He shrugged. "She's worried – pacing the floors – and when I asked if someone was staying the night, she wouldn't answer – "

The cook chuckled. "Norns bless her, she's all worked up. Thor'll come around, he always does – they'll be sparring together again by morning."

He grinned at her and she handed him a plate. "That'll do, I think," she said. "Tell me if she needs enough for two!"

They laughed and he weaved his way out of the kitchen again, out of the steam and the commotion.

* * *

She was absentmindedly picking at the food that had been sent up when there was a light knock on the door and Thor entered.

She stood up immediately – his face was haggard and he had apparently not been sleeping as well.

"How is he?" she asked quickly, searching his face, tempted to search his mind as well – but she restrained herself. "Is he all right?"

Thor shrugged slightly. "We still do not know. Eir believes that something, or someone, is in his mind, planting the images… I cannot tell."

"Can I see him?" she asked softly. "Please?"

He ran a hand through his hair wearily. "I am afraid not – Odin will not allow it – and I need to get back to him, I only wanted to tell you what we know."

She sighed. "Thank you, anyways," she said. "I just – it's so frustrating to not – to not – " and her eyes welled again – _oh, not now, really Alana, now's not the time_ – and she swiped at her eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm tired."

Thor hugged her tightly, firmly. "I swear he will be all right, Alana. I swear it. And you have nothing to apologize for."

There was a knock and the sound of a door opening immediately after it, then a small "oh!" and the sound of the door closing again.

Thor sighed. "The servants seem to have remarkably bad timing."

She smiled slightly and he let go of her. She made a little shooing motion with her hand. "Stay with him, Thor," she said. "Please."

He nodded. "I will."

* * *

It was two in the morning and she hadn't slept at all.

The castle was quiet as she snuck out of her chambers and made her way to Loki's – no servants, no Einherjar to be seen.

She paused outside the door, feeling for minds – Thor's, inside, asleep, and the darkness that passed for Loki's mind.

She pushed the door open silently and entered, the well-oiled hinges making no noise.

Thor was asleep in a chair next to the bed, his head resting on his chest, hair covering his face.

And Loki…

He was thinner and paler than when she had been with him on Vanaheim – the dungeons leaving their mark, again – and her heart ached in pain.

He moaned slightly and tossed in the bed, his bare chest heaving, fingers clenching and unclenching rapidly. "Stop, don't…"

She crossed to him, touching his forehead – cold and clammy.

She took his hand in hers. "Loki, it's me," she whispered, "I'm here, Loki."

His hand wrapped around her wrist. "Don't hurt her," he said desperately, "stop – "

"I'm fine, Loki, everything's okay. Everything's all right, Loki," she whispered, clutching his hand tighter. "Loki, wake up."

She probed his mind – his barriers were in tatters and there was _something_ in his mind, something dark and undulating, she touched it hesitantly and inhaled sharply – _a flash of bright blue eyes in a huge face, then a low voice, "Not you – not yet."_

The image disappeared but she probed the darkness again.

_Let him _go_._

The darkness seemed to laugh, and pushed her out once more.

Loki's eyes shot open – she crouched beside him, one hand reaching for his cheek.

"Loki, I'm okay, I'm here," she said softly, "You have to – "

"Get _out_," he said furiously, "get out of here now, Alana, you can't fight him, he'll –"

His eyes rolled back up in his head and he twitched away from her, faced screwed up in pain.

She hesitated for only a moment, and then climbed into the bed, next to him, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her lips to his forehead.

He moaned again and pressed his face into her chest – she stroked his hair and whispered to him, although she wasn't certain he could hear her – and she pushed at the dark mass in his mind again and again, which merely laughed and shoved her out.

She grabbed one tendril and _pulled_, hard, with all her strength, and the mass growled at her, but she could feel the darkness receding – she pulled again and Loki began to calm slightly, and the darkness hissed and an image appeared in her mind once more –

_"__You're stronger than I thought, little mortal. Do you want your weak and feeble lover back?"_

_Give him to me._

_"__Say please…"_

She growled and pulled harder but it lashed out like a whip and she stifled a groan of pain.

_"__Here, then. Have him back. For now… but be warned, _armustar_. I am not finished with him… with either of you."_

The darkness receded slowly, slowly, leaving an emptiness that was gradually taken back by Loki's light, which was slightly faded at first but began to shine brighter as the minutes passed.

She watched him worriedly, but he did not wake up, merely shifted slightly in her arms.

She kissed him on the forehead and held him tightly as he slept.

_Be safe._


	49. Incomplete

**A/N: Hey everyone!**

**Sorry about the delay (again). We're approaching already-written sections, so there's gonna be a lot quicker updates from now on!**

**Thanks for all those who reviewed/followed/favorited during the Hiatus**™.

**Thedragoness821: Thank you so much! I'm so, so happy that you like it. :)**

**C (guest): Two reviews! Gah, that's a mark of how long it's been. Hope you find the new chapter sans account, dear! No backflips required, and two sentences a day... man, that's commitment. Thank you so much for your encouragement.**

**Guest: Here you go, sorry about the awful wait! Hope you find this story again. :)**

**And without further ado... snuggling, clones, balcony-perching, and Odin (everyone knows how that's gonna go, LOL).**

* * *

**TWENTY-FIVE**

* * *

_I breathe in slow to compose myself  
But the bleeding heart I left on the shelf  
Started speeding round, beating half to death  
Cause you're here and you're all mine_

_So I press my lips down into your neck_  
_And I stay there and I reconnect_  
_Bravery I've been trying to be perfect_  
_It can wait for a while_

_Scared of the hope in my head it's been making me sweat but it turns out_  
_You're here with your head on my chest_  
_I should've guessed_

_\- "Incomplete," James Bay_

* * *

Loki opened his eyes slowly, warm and slightly unsettled.

Alana was sleeping beside him, her face turned towards him, hand barely touching his chest.

He reached to touch her cheek, but hesitated – was he free? Was this an extended nightmare, was she really beside him, or would blood pour from her mouth any second, would his hands turn blue and murder her –

She murmured something indistinct and curled closer to him, hand pressing flat against his skin.

He tensed, but she pressed even closer to him, tucking her head against his chest.

After a few minutes when nothing had happened, he tentatively placed his arm around her – she smiled slightly in her sleep – and – thank the Norns, nothing happened.

_This is real,_ he told himself. _She is here._

And the reason that he knew that, most of all, was the warmth in his chest that only came with her presence, the peacefulness in his heart that he had not found anywhere else.

He pressed his lips to the top of her head, breathing in her scent, and just to hold her in his arms – oh, he had craved this for so long, the touch of her, the warmth, the feeling of her body pressed against his.

But what had she done?

He was certain that it was Thanos who had been planting the images inside his mind, incapacitating him – and hadn't he been in the dungeons?

He looked around – his bedroom? – and tensed slightly when he saw Thor sitting next to him, but he was asleep, his chin resting on his chest – he looked exhausted.

He stroked Alana's hair absentmindedly.

So if Alana had felt Thanos in his mind, and told Thor… Thor must have brought him up to his old chambers, but Odin would not have let Alana stay, he knew that.

She shifted a little in his arms and his eyes fell down to her – she must have snuck in after Thor was asleep.

He smiled slightly and brushed a lock of hair out of her face.

But why had Thanos left?

His smile faded as he regarded her. What _had_ she done?

* * *

Thor opened his eyes the next morning to the sight of Alana curled next to Loki in his bed.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, but couldn't quite bring himself to be angry with her.

Loki seemed calm, though, a small consolation, his arm draped loosely around her, body pale against the dark sheets.

He was so still it was as if he was dead…

A sudden panic took hold of his heart and he leaned towards Loki – was he breathing? Dear gods, if he had _died_ –

Loki's eyes snapped open and fixed on his; he stumbled one step back in shock.

"Good morning," Loki said nonchalantly

"What the _Hel_, Loki? You were – last night – "

Loki sat up and stretched lightly, saying, "I'm going to take her back to her chambers – the servants will be arriving soon."

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stood up, but Thor stopped him, one hand raised in warning. "I can't let you leave, Loki." He stared at Loki. "You were – your mind was – "

Loki nodded, his eyes serious. "I know. I've rebuilt my barriers, but I do not think that they will stop him again."

"Well, what happened?"

Loki's eyes flicked towards Alana. "I am not exactly sure, but I believe that she had something to do with it."

He stepped around Thor and crossed over to the side of the bed that Alana was on.

He gathered her up into his arms – she curled into him, her arms wrapping around his neck – and he gazed at her with a tinge of worry, his brow furrowed. "She came in while you were sleeping – I do not know what she did, but it was Thanos, I am sure of it, Thor."

Thor raised his chin and said, "Loki, I cannot let you leave."

Loki's eyes flicked to him. "I will not try to escape, brother. I swear."

"Your oaths mean nothing to me," he said bluntly.

Loki lifted his chin. "What shall I swear on then?"

Thor said nothing.

"Shall I swear on my life?"

Thor scoffed. "I was under the impression that you did not care much for it."

Loki's eyes dropped back to Alana. "I did not use to," he said softly. "I swear I will return, Thor. But I must take her back. I can't risk Odin - " and he cut off, leaving the sentence dangling in the air.

Thor hesitated, then grudgingly stepped aside. "Very well."

A flick of Loki's fingers and a sleeping Loki appeared on the bed. Thor looked up to see a plated, bearded Einherjar in front of him, Alana in his arms.

The Einherjar winked at him, and left the room.

* * *

Alana awakened to a rocking sensation – she was being carried somewhere – and she tensed slightly, keeping her eyes closed.

She attempted to probe the mind carrying her, but their walls were strong and she could not break them, at least not without the person's knowledge.

She thought that the light seemed familiar, like Loki's, but she wasn't sure – she couldn't remember exactly how it had felt before the darkness.

A creak of a door, and soft footsteps – carpeting in this room, then – and she was being placed gently down onto a bed – silky soft and warm – and rough fingers traced their way across her face, a murmur, "Alana."

She tensed even more – these were not Loki's hands, not his voice, and not Thor's, either – who was beside her?

Lips touched her forehead, scratchy with stubble – she twisted her gauntlet with her telekinesis, and feeling her armor forming around her, she lashed out, hitting a chest plated with metal, hearing an _oof_ emerge from his lungs as she shoved him across the room and pinned him to a wall.

She shot from the bed and up to him, a dagger from the nightstand flying to her hand – she pressed it to his throat, the throat of a man she had never seen before, dressed in the armor of the Einherjar.

"Who the _hell_ are you? How do you know my name?" she hissed.

"Alana, it's _me,_" the man said, and green light shimmered around him, revealing Loki standing there.

She lowered the dagger. "Loki – what – " but he pulled her close to him, his lips finding hers, flipping her around and pressing her against the wall.

She moaned into his mouth, her fingers tracing up his bare chest, wrapping around his neck – his lips, his hands, his body, _him, him, him_ – finally him, finally her Loki in her arms again.

There was a knock and the sound of an opening door – Loki pulled away from her quickly, a flash of green light surrounding him – and suddenly the maid was in the room, her eyes wide with shock.

Alana looked from the maid to Loki – except it was Thor, now, standing there, coldness in his eyes. "Get out," he said, and the maid complied, backing out of the room hastily.

She raised a hand to her cheek; it was hot and likely red, her hair disheveled, and she dropped her head and sighed loudly. "Really, Loki, _Thor?_ You could have chosen _anyone, _and you had to pick Thor? The maid is going to – "

Another flash of green light and he was there in front of her again, lips pressing hard to hers.

"I wasn't done kissing you," he whispered against her lips, but she pushed at his chest a little, and he pulled away.

She sighed. "You should probably get back. Thor will be waiting – "

"I don't give a damn about Thor, Alana – " and he paused, his face turning more serious. "It _was_ Thanos, wasn't it?"

She nodded slightly. "I think so – but I didn't get rid of him, Loki, he _left._ On purpose – "

He ran a hand through his hair. "Tell me what he said."

She looked away. "The important thing is that you're all right, Loki – "

"No." His fingers lifted her chin gently. "Tell me what he said."

She hesitated, then said, "He said that he wasn't finished with… either of us."

He sighed heavily, forehead pressing to hers. "I told you to leave," he whispered. "Why didn't you leave?"

"I wasn't going to just leave you, Loki - you were in danger."

He closed his eyes.

"And if it had been me - you wouldn't have left, Loki, I know that," she said softly. "You can't always protect me – I have to help you too."

He smiled sadly, his eyes still closed, and kissed her on the forehead.

"I love you," he whispered.

She sighed, pressing her face into his chest – he tensed for a second, remembering the dreams - "Are you sure that you're all right, Loki?"

He hesitated, pulling away from her slightly. "I'm fine."

Her eyes were sad as she looked at him. "Last night – I've never seen you like that before, Loki, ever."

She paused – his eyes dropped away from hers – and she took his hand. "What did you see?" she whispered.

He pulled away from her, closing his eyes briefly - the words spilled out, he couldn't control them - "I saw you die a hundred thousand times. I saw my mother and Kvasir and Thor and – I couldn't do a thing. Everything I touched burned – I killed you a thousand times and I watched you fall in love with a hundred different men – I tried to save you and all I did was hurt you – I watched you kiss another, and I _hated_ you for it."

Her hand came up to his face – he tensed, expecting a slap, but her hands cradled his chin, her eyes wet. "That wasn't you," she whispered. "It wasn't you, Loki."

"Yes, but it _felt_ like me," he said roughly. "I can't leave you, Alana, I can't let you go, and look how I've hurt you already. Maybe – maybe Thanos is right, maybe this is your only future with me - "

"He's trying to hurt you, Loki, wind you up – but you aren't going to hurt me, Loki. Ever," she said softly. "You haven't hurt me – "

"Don't – " he said, his eyes fixed on hers. "That's not true, and you know it, Alana. I let you forget years of your life, I've scarred you, I – I have been - less than kind since the day I saw you, and yet you stay with me – why? Thanos will only use us against each other – and even still, I – I do not think that I could let you go."

"You won't," she said, firmly. "You will never have to."

"But I _will_," he said, pressing his forehead to hers. "One day you will die, Alana – and what will I do with the rest of my life? Do you expect me to survive three thousand years without you?"

Her eyes dropped away from his.

He sighed slightly. "I'm sorry, Alana, I shouldn't have – "

Her fingers crept over his mouth, silencing him. He kissed her palm gently.

She looked up at him, her gray eyes touching his. "I love you," she said softly. "We'll figure it out."

She kissed him, her lips parting against his, and he could feel her, warm and soft, and Thanos had almost taken her from him.

The unease in the pit of his stomach grew deeper and deeper.

"Something's going to happen," he whispered to her. "Soon. I can feel it. And if I can't – even if I'm not there – you have to leave. Go to Heimdall, have him send you back to Midgard – "

"I'm _not_ leaving without you again, Loki. Ever."

She sighed slightly. "We're safe here," she said, touching his cheek lightly.

He remembered columns torn to shreds from Malekith's harrow, remembered the limitations of Heimdall's gaze, remembered ice creeping across the floor of the weapons vault, and did not care much for their chances if Thanos were to attack.

He forced a small smile. "I know, love."

He kissed her on the forehead one last time, then pulled away, green light surrounding him as Thor took his place.

He left, feeling the weight of her gaze on his red-draped back.

* * *

Thor was pacing up and down Loki's bedroom by the time he returned, stopping short as he saw another Thor enter the room.

The green light flashed and Loki appeared again, one eyebrow raised. "You're going to wear ruts in my floor."

Thor scoffed and shook off the jab, pointing Mjolnir at Loki. "Why were you me?"

Loki shrugged. "There was a bit of a misunderstanding. Everything's fine, Thor, don't worry." He sidestepped Thor and made his way over to the bookshelves, eyebrows furrowing as he pursued the titles.

He flicked his hand at the bed absentmindedly and the sleeping Loki disappeared from the bed.

He turned around – Thor was standing right in front of him, Mjolnir clenched tightly in his hand.

"What _happened_?"

"I might ask you the same, _brother._"

Thor's eyebrows furrowed. "I do not – "

"Why did you return to Asgard?"

He turned back to the shelves, fingers trailing across the spines, and continued, "Does Jane no longer hold your interest? Do you regret your rejection of the throne?"

There was no response from Thor – Loki selected a book and turned around to see him staring curiously at Loki. "So it _was_ you," he said, "pretending to be Father."

Loki shrugged. "Since when has Odin approved of your relationship with Jane?"

Thor stared out the window. "I had a vision. Of Asgard…"

This piqued Loki's interest. "Go on."

Thor sighed. "The Infinity Gems… I believe that someone is trying to obtain them, use them… I saw Heimdall blinded, chaos and fear…"

Loki raised his eyebrows. "I could have told you this _months_ ago. And that someone, brother, is Thanos."

Thor looked sideways at him. "Months ago I would not have trusted you."

Loki paused, assessing the words. "Do you now?"

Thor looked pensive for a moment, and then replied, simply, "No."

Loki scoffed and turned away from him, but stopped as Thor said, "But I will try to, for Alana's sake."

He straightened; Thor sighed. "She believes in you, for some foolish reason – trusts you more than anyone else on Asgard. And she is wiser than she would have some think. Although I do not trust you, brother – I trust her."

"You barely know her," Loki responded, still facing away.

"I know enough to see that she is honest and brave. She cares for you – _some_how."

Loki did not speak.

Thor sighed again. "Forgive me, brother. I am not so trusting as she."

After a time, Loki inclined his head.

Thor nodded, and left the room.

* * *

He stood on the balcony, wind ruffling his hair, as he watched her train from above.

She whirled and spun, her armor gleaming in the light of the sunset, and the Einherjar she was fighting could barely keep up – her movements countering his half a second before they came.

Thor, standing nearby, opened his mouth and shouted something at them, and she laughed as she slashed and twirled.

There was a small smile on Loki's face as he watched her.

She ducked under the Einherjar's arm and knocked him to the ground, straddling him, her dagger positioned above his throat.

The onlookers applauded politely.

He could see her mouth moving slightly – she was talking to her opponent, who spoke back to her – she laughed again and stood up, stretching a hand to help him up, cumbersome in his heavy armor.

She stretched slightly and her opponent clapped her on the shoulder – she smiled at him and he could feel his stomach churning slightly –

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Stop," he said out loud.

Thor beckoned her over to him and they stood there together, talking, for a while – Alana nodded frequently and Thor's hand gestures got larger – until the sun had almost fully set, the last rays of light in the sky.

He remembered her sigh of frustration after he had shifted into Thor because of the maid – something telling him that the servants had already constructed the necessary rumors to accompany a new arrival to the palace.

He could have chosen anyone, he supposed, but people usually listened to Thor when he got angry.

But it was more than that, he knew – as he watched them standing far below, he thought, _She deserves someone better than I – less maimed, less anguished, someone more like Thor – she is too good for me, too kind._

Thor clapped her on the shoulder and headed back for the palace, leaving her standing there alone.

She looked up towards him, smiling slightly.

_I don't want anyone else but you, Loki._

He inhaled slightly as her mind caressed his, the light soothing, warm and bright.

"You heard me, then."

_I always hear you, Loki._

He sighed again. "I'm sorry – "

_Don't apologize. I love _you_, Loki. You. Not anyone else. Not ever._

He ran a hand through his hair. "I miss you. It's been too long."

_I know. You've been watching me for weeks._

He smiled slightly. "Of course you noticed."

_Of course I did._

"I want to see you," he said, quietly.

She sighed. _I know, Loki, but – there are Einherjar around your door. They won't let me in._

"I know," he said. "You can't get in. But I can get out."

There was a pause, and she sighed again.

_Loki, I don't want you to get in trouble – _

"But?"

_But – god, I miss you._

There was another pause.

_Hurry._

His lips curled up into a smile.

A twist of his fingers and a clone appeared, lounging in a chair, flipping through a book. He cloaked himself in emptiness and touched the wall in three spaces, deliberately, and a panel of wood shifted sideways, the passage within silent and dark and beckoning.

* * *

She stood there, silhouetted by the sky, in a gown of inky purple, gold bands around her arms and her hair falling down her back.

He walked up behind her, his hands skimming down her waist, coming to rest on her hips. She sighed softly and leaned back into his chest.

Silence filled the air around them.

"You can say it," he said softly. "I know I shouldn't be here, I know it's not safe, I know what will happen if they find me – "

"I don't care," she said, turning towards him and kissing him hard.

He inhaled with the suddenness of it, but Norns above, it was bliss like he had not dreamed of for months.

Their lips parted – she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him, and he pressed his lips to her hair, breathing in the smell of her, the life, the light, his arms tight across her back. _I never want to let you go._

"Me neither," she said softly, voice muffled by his shirt. "Stay."

_Forever._

* * *

He had pressed his lips to hers one last time before he left, hours ago, had whispered, "I love you," to her before he draped himself in shadow and nothingness, and the hole in her heart was healed for the meantime.

She lay awake; moonlight cutting across the room, starlight piercing the hangings of her bed.

A meteor shot across the sky – she wished with all her might that Odin would set him free.

_It won't be like this forever, stolen kisses, distant gazes,_ she thought.

Sleep took her as she pretended their fingers were twined.

* * *

Thor circled Alana warily – she seemed small, but weeks of watching her fight had told him that size didn't matter – she decimated most, if not all, of her opponents, regardless of size.

She stood there, eyes closed, patiently waiting for his attack.

There was a larger crowd than usual surrounding them today – eager to see the Lady Sigyn take on the Mighty Thor.

"Any chance of a start date, Thor?" she asked patiently.

"It's all part of the plan, Sigyn…" he said and then swung at her.

She ducked, eyes still closed. "I'm going to pretend that doesn't count," she said.

He changed directions and charged her – she ducked under him again and hit him in the back of the head with her hand, throwing him off balance, but he straightened quickly and whirled back around towards her.

Close combat was where the fight was the most evenly tied – when he was right on top of her, catching blows on his gauntlets, taking blows to the chest, without pause. His height gave him the advantage there – she got a bit overwhelmed when he loomed over her but quickly compensated, thrusting her hands out and pushing him further away with her telekinesis, landing stronger, harder blows with her feet.

"Better," he said, as he blocked her punch.

He wasn't pulling his own punches – barely any of them got through. It was something that she had been working on – a shield about an inch or so from her skin that absorbed his blows but still allowed her to give them.

She was mortal, he kept reminding himself. She will break if I hit her at full strength.

"Let's see about that," she said, breathing heavily, her eyes a flash of blue.

He smiled and continued the fight.

High up above them, Loki rested his head on his hand, perched on the railing of his balcony, studying the way they both moved.

It was different than when she fought with weapons because they were both so much more vulnerable. Neither of them was dressed in full armor, and their actions were smaller because of it – quicker, more agile.

"Guard your left," he said out loud and then smirked as she delivered a roundhouse kick to the left side of Thor's abdomen. "Or not, I suppose."

Thor recovered quickly and began pressing steadily closer to her, catching her blows with his forearms, both of their arms a blur of motion. He seized her arm and flipped her through the air, using her force against her - he tensed as she hit the ground hard, one hand clenching slightly – and Thor pinned her to the ground, his mouth moving.

She nodded and he let her up, one hand reaching out to aid her. She bent over, breathing heavily – Thor patted her on the shoulder and spoke again – she laughed, shaking her head, standing up straight and grimacing, brushing off her clothing.

He rested his head in his arms, sick of being so far away.

* * *

She wandered through the library, fingers trailing across the books there – thick, encased in heavy leather embossed with runes and symbols, orbs of light floating in the air.

She stopped in front of the painting of Loki, still covered in grime and dust, and sighed heavily.

His eyes reached for hers, green and piercing, concealing a tinge of pain (how well she knew that look) and she reached up and touched the canvas, to his painted cheek.

Her fingers came away thick with dust, leaving tracks down the canvas against his face.

She spread her hand – the painting shook slightly, but as she focused (smaller, smaller) the particles of dust came away from the canvas, floating in a ball.

She released the particles, and the painting shined a little brighter, and her heart felt a little more content.

* * *

Thor frowned as he stared at the map. "The attacks have been coming more frequently now – Vanaheim is in chaos, and although Alfheim is holding up for the most part, there cannot be any doubt that they need our help, Father."

Odin's fingers tapped against the side of the table. "There has been no official declaration of war as of late – we cannot trace the N'itouri back to anyone – "

"You know that it is Thanos as well as I, Father. It was he who penetrated Loki's mind – I am sure that he holds a grudge for Loki's failure to obtain the Tesseract on Midgard, and Father – he is collecting the Infinity Stones. One is safe on Midgard, for now… but the others…"

"I want the Tesseract moved to the most secure level of the vaults. And send Volstagg back to the Collector – he will know if they are stirring, and we must make sure of the Aether's safety."

Thor paused for a second. "Father… Loki could aid us. He knows Thanos better than anyone on Asgard, he was privy to his plans – at least part of them…. Would it not be prudent to release him?"

Odin stared, unblinking. "You wish to have him _released_? After all that he has done?"

"I do not trust him, but he _has_ changed," Thor said. "He is willing to help and to receive help – he is different than before."

Odin scoffed. "Because of the mortal? Because he is in _love_ with a mortal? There are things that love can do," he said, standing, "and there are things that it most certainly cannot. And it cannot turn an evil man to good."

"Loki is misguided, but _evil_, Father? You raised him, I grew up with him, and we saw nothing – "

"He is not Aesir, Thor. He is not like you or me. He is a Jotunn, and he is Laufey's son. _Laufey._ I fought him for centuries, Thor. I know evil when I see it."

"Laufey abandoned him," Thor said. "He left him to die. Do you really think that Loki would do such a thing to a child?"

Odin straightened. "It is irrelevant. Loki must be punished for his crimes. He is out of the dungeons; that should be enough." He moved to leave the room, but Thor stopped him, one hand on his arm. "Father, please. Just for a little while then, not forever – either way he cannot be caged for long, he will grow restless and angry – let him free for a while and he will be grateful. Let him see Ala –Sigyn and he will thank you for it."

Odin lifted his chin. "One night, Thor. Then he will return to his solitude, his punishment."

Thor's fingers retracted from Odin's armor. "Thank you, Father."

* * *

Loki scoffed. "The festival of Sumarsmal? That is the night you have chosen? I doubt Odin will agree."

Thor shrugged. "It is as good a time as any. Sumarsmal is about the arrival of summer, about – "

"New beginnings, new life, I know." He sighed. "Very well, then."

Thor turned to leave, but was stopped as Loki said, quietly, "Thank you for this, brother."

He smiled slightly, although Loki could not see. "Shall I tell Alana the good news, or should we keep it a surprise?"

Loki laughed softly. "We might as well keep it a secret. Hide it away in your mind, then, Thor – you wouldn't want to ruin the surprise while sparring."

Thor nodded, smiling faintly, and left the room.

It was the first time he had heard Loki laugh like that in years.

* * *

**A/N: I can promise that soon there will be explosions, dancing, big fancy dresses, crying, smexy times, and death! (Not necessarily in that order.) Stay tuned for more! Hugs to everyone reading. Love you all.**


	50. Love Never Fails

**A/N: Hi guys! Back again, woohoo! I know it's been a while - applications for college have been paramount at this point - but I haven't forgotten this story... or you.**

**I'm so grateful that you guys have all stuck with me thus far. I promise that this story is not done. In a few months I'll be able to give my full attention to posting on a more regular schedule.**

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**Without further ado - the chapter. Which is really what you're here for, after all.**

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX**

* * *

_Although my words failed  
You knew what I was trying to say  
And though my hands weak by sorrow  
Still would never let go of this memory  
Where the trees bowed from the wind  
You whispered "I promise, I promise you"  
You held my hands tight  
Comfort remains_

_\- "Love Never Fails," Sleeping at Last_

* * *

She was not looking forward to this upcoming feast, although it was still months away.

Asgard was beautiful, but she was tired of lying, tired of smiling and nodding and answering to a name that wasn't hers.

When Thor had first told her about the feast one day, she had groaned and said, "Do I have to go?"

Thor had laughed. "Alana, you have not truly experienced Asgard until you have been to at least one feast. There will be dancing and revels!"

She had sighed and pushed a hand through her hair, saying, "Can I at least leave early?"

Thor had winked at her and said, "You may not want to."

She had smiled slightly, in spite of herself, and grudgingly agreed to attend.

* * *

Odin sighed heavily. "Sumarsmal, Thor? You deliberately chose the largest feast of the season in which to let him loose?"

Thor gritted his teeth. "He is not an animal, Father. And he will not attempt to escape."

"I have many important affairs to worry about during Sumarsmal. You would add another?"

"You have my word, Father. Nothing will go wrong."

Odin sighed. "It is not _your_ word I am concerned about." He passed a hand in front of his brow. "I expect that he remain unobtrusive. I expect that his… _relationship_ with the _armustar_ will not be revealed. And I _expect_ you to enforce this. Am I understood?"

Thor bowed his head. "Yes, Father."

* * *

The Council had met in the war-room, along with a few others. But only one was a problem for Tyr.

He clenched his jaw slightly as he looked at her, her chin rested in her hand. She had remained silent thus far – _appropriate for a Midgardian who knows nothing of war_ – but was following the conversation intently.

Sif touched his arm lightly. "Father," she whispered, "your hostility is apparent to everyone. Turn your mind to more important matters."

He grumbled but grudgingly complied.

His mind slipped back to her, once or twice, accompanied by a rush of anger, but he tamped it down.

What was so infuriating about it was the way that she had become an accepted member of his family. He _had_ wanted another child, perhaps a son, but after Zisa had died, all thoughts of that sort had vanished once he was consumed with grief. This adoption had not been of his will, but of Odin's. He had waved his hand and she was pronounced "Tyrsdottir", but Tyr had had no say in the matter.

And this Midgardian, this _mortal_ was the telepath of the realms, and had pledged to protect them – this _child_, who would live no more than a century, had bound herself to them quicker than he would have thought possible. And she had wormed her way into the hearts of those who mattered – Sif and Thor and Freya and Frey.

And Loki! He could have perhaps accepted her as a boon to the realm, if not as his daughter, if there was not this _love_ for a traitor and a trickster and a liar, a false king, one who wrought destruction and fear.

Her eyes snapped to his from across the room, stormy and hard, and he reinforced his mental walls, slightly afraid.

But Odin still mistrusted her – that at least was something, something to prove that he was _right_. The king stood by him, even though he had forced her upon his family.

Zisa… what would she have thought of this arrangement? The centuries that had passed since her death had left him empty and cold. He had thrown his soul into the king and the realms, trained Sif to fight, to be as strong as her mother had been weak – and now this girl came in to tear it all to Hel, this careful life that he had reconstructed like a barrier around what was left of his family.

When Sif had been born, he had taken Zisa's hand and said that Sif must be blessed to have such a mother. Zisa had smiled and said, "All children are blessed, Tyr."

The _armustar_ pulled her legs up onto the chair, tucking them close. Her gauntlets gleamed in the dim light.

Someone addressed her – Frey – asking her if she could begin to monitor the Asgardian population for anomalies – hidden N'itouri, Thanos sympathizers, and the like. She nodded, eyes serious, and Frey said, "Thank you, Sigyn," and turned back to Freya.

He noticed that her shoulders tensed and then slumped ever so slightly in reaction to the name.

_"__She will bring us victory… and if not…"_

His words had branded her with a burden, even if she did not know it. He knew that her abilities made her powerful, and could change the war.

He realized that he did not know her real name.

* * *

Loki lay diagonally across his bed, feet hanging off the side. A book floated in front of him, pages surrounded by green light.

He flicked his finger lazily and the page turned.

He snapped the book shut and whirled up out of the bed, pacing around the room, fingers locked together behind his back.

Sumarsmal was one of the largest feasts of the year. It was also the most heavily populated. Nobles from all Nine Realms would be in attendance.

He passed a hand through his hair. Of all the nights for Thor to pick to let him out… this had to be one of the absolute worst. He did not look forward to being shunned by an entire kingdom.

But if that would gain him a few moments of peace with her, he would endure it.

There was a knock on the door, and Thor entered.

"What news?" he asked.

Thor sighed. "There was a Council meeting today – battle is coming faster than we had predicted. All sources say that Thanos will be planning a major attack soon, one that will most likely start the war," he said grimly. "I do not care for our chances of survival. But there is other news." He sighed again. "Father is not pleased, but has grudgingly agreed to let you attend Sumarsmal. But… he wants you to avoid Alana."

He clenched his fingers tightly but kept his voice calm. "He does not want our relationship to be revealed."

Thor glanced at the floor. "I am sorry, brother."

He exhaled slowly. "It's fine. Thank you."

Thor nodded and left.

Loki resumed pacing.

* * *

She leaned over the edge of her balcony, watching the sunset.

Her life had changed so much in so short a time that every morning when she woke up she thought it had been one long, extended dream.

And she concealed the hole that had been ripped into her as best she could… but in the mornings, when she did not awaken to his arm cradled around her, and in the evenings, when she lay silent and still in her bed – then she could not hide the pain.

When Kvasir had told her that she was the _armustar_, she had thought that she had been important – special, worthy of something greater. But in her time on Asgard she was slowly growing to realize that even those who knew that she was the _armustar_ did not believe that she was capable of such things.

She sighed and propped her head in her hands, staring out at the water.

She missed Earth so much.

No – that was a lie. She missed the memories of her and Loki, alone, at peace, together without a thought of what would come next.

She slowly undressed and began to prepare herself for bed.

She fell asleep imagining pale arms tucked around her and soft lips pressed to her forehead.

* * *

Odin stared over a golden map floating in the air. Beside him, Freyr swore softly.

He rubbed his temple. "Prepare the vanguard."

Freyr nodded silently and disappeared from his side.

* * *

Thor strode down the hallways, quickly and without hesitation, approaching Alana's room. It was late, and the palace was dark, torches fluttering on the walls, each empty hallway adjacent to him full of shadow and deep darkness.

Freyr had woken him with a touch – he did not sleep heavily, these days – and told him of the situation, then had quickly left for the barracks, to wake the rest of the Einherjar who would be accompanying Thor.

He quietly let himself into Alana's room, well-oiled hinges making no noise, and approached her bed.

She was curled up in the sheets, taking up less than half of the bed, her arms wrapped around herself in a way that made his chest ache.

Gods, he could still see her pressed against Loki's side, that night that he had been so wretched – could picture him here, next to her, in this empty space, his arms around her instead of her own.

What was he doing? Was he really about to wake her up and tell her that they had to go, to fight? She was younger than Jane, she was mortal – despite her strength he feared for her as he had never feared for an Einherjar.

She stirred slightly, tangling herself in the sheets even more.

And Loki… gods. If – _when_ – he found out where she had gone he would be driven mad with rage and fear – and Thor had no desire to subdue him _again_, with this small pale woman in front of him who would ache all the more for it – what in Hel should he do?

The answer slowly fluttered down to him, and he sighed.

He crossed to the other side of the bed and touched her shoulder lightly, saying, "Alana."

Her eyes bolted open quick as lightning and she sat up, eyes searching his. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Gird yourself," he said with a heavy heart. "We go to battle."

And Alana merely swung her legs from the bed and walked to her closet and emerged forty seconds later in her boots and pants and shirt, strapping on her gauntlets as if he woke her like this every day.

She twisted the dial on her gauntlet and her armor flowed to her, gold and brown and blue, her fingers reaching out to pull daggers from numerous nooks and crannies throughout the room, fastening them at her sides.

"I'm ready," she said, and his heart sank even more.

* * *

Loki had barely fallen asleep when he was awoken by the creak of a floorboard.

He remained perfectly still, eyes closed – the only exception to this stillness was his fingers reaching out to pull a knife, secreted away from a meal, towards him from under his pillow.

Soft footsteps _(two of them, I can take two)_ approached, and then paused beside his bed.

"He looks tired," a low voice commented. "He has not been sleeping well of late."

_Thor._ What the Hel was Thor doing here in the dead of night – and who was he talking to?

He felt the bed depress next to him – _too light for Thor to be sitting next to me_ – and then another voice said, "He's not sleeping now, either," and touched his cheek lightly and his eyes are open wide now, turning to see her sitting next to him, a small smile on her face and clad in armor in the small hours of the morning and his heart dropped from his mouth into his gut – _please no._

Thor said, "Alana, there's not much time. I'll be outside."

He exited and Loki's hand came up to cup her cheek – she closed her eyes briefly, her brow smoothing, and he said softly, "What's going on?"

She opened her eyes and said, "The vanguard is going to Alfheim," and with those six words he knew to what she was going.

"No," he said, "no, Alana, please – " and she embraced him hard, arms around his neck – her warmth and weight real and sturdy and _there_ – and she was going to war.

She pressed her forehead to his. "Not war, Loki – not war. Just a place that needs our help. Just one fight and then we come home."

He turned his head away from hers. "Why do _you_ have to go?" he asked, trying to hide the thickness in his throat, the pounding of his heart, double-time.

"Because," she said, "if I'm there, the chances are better that we all come home, that we all stay safe."

He was so close to losing her forever – half a day or an hour away from losing her to the depths, from falling there himself.

"And because," she said again, "If I wasn't going, I couldn't do this," and she pressed her lips into his, hungry and searching, and he can feel the moisture clinging inside of his closed eyelids, trying to memorize this – the taste of her, the weight of her, her smell and feel and every detail of her presence in his arms.

"Take me with you," he whispered into her lips as they pulled apart. "Take me with you, Alana, please – " and she pressed her forehead into his again and said, "I can't, Loki," and he felt as if he was about to shatter into a hundred thousand pieces.

"I need," he said roughly, "I need you to come back," and he cupped her face in his hands – "do you understand me, I need you back, Alana, swear to me you'll come back."

She kissed the tips of his fingers. "I swear," she said softly. "I'll be back soon."

And the image from the nightmare crept into his mind, of her burning on a boat in the middle of the river with no way for him to reach her – Thor bearing her body back to Asgard from this battle, never to smile or laugh or _live_ again – he pulled her close to his chest again, trying to enfold her in his arms completely, so that there would be nothing left for Thor to take to Alfheim.

She pressed her hand flat to the center of his chest and whispered his name, once.

The door creaked open again – time running even shorter, sand flooding from the hourglass – and Thor was there, her name on the tip of his tongue, and as he spoke it, she whispered, "I love you, Loki," right against his pounding heart, her lips pressed against his chest for one second more – and then it was "Alana," from Thor and she was flowing away from him – _please no._

He stood up quickly, right in front of Thor, a hand keeping him from moving. "Your word," he said, fiercely. "Again."

Thor hesitated for a second, then said, "I give it."

And then they left – the door swinging shut like it had never opened at all, like it was all some horrible nightmare –

He had forgotten to say _I love you_.

* * *

It was eerily quiet as they picked their way through the ash and the rubble of a small town in Alfheim. There was hardly a breeze, hardly a sigh on the air – even her breath seemed to evaporate into the stillness without a sound.

Thor had explained to her that the capital of Alfheim was under attack by a group of N'itouri – around forty or fifty. But they had been pummeling the smaller outer towns for weeks, burning and murdering and then disappearing again without a trace. It was suspected that they had infiltrated the capital by means of shape-shifting and then taken over the large palace at the city's center. It was likely that the minister of Alfheim was dead. The N'itouri had barricaded themselves inside, emerging every so often to pillage and raid.

They were approaching from the east of the city, through several ruined towns, and already Asgard felt so far away…

She stopped walking abruptly, and Thor noticed. "What is it?" he asked, his voice low.

"We're being watched," she whispered to him. "One N'itouri, about fifty yards away, to the left."

Thor did not turn, but his eyes flicked to the spot she had mentioned. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." She could feel the presence there, the light of its mind concealing the darkness within, turning her stomach, tensing her muscles.

Thor nodded and said, "Bring it to me."

She thrust her hand out to the left and pulled – there was a roar of rage as the N'itouri tumbled through the air towards them and landed in front of Thor, on his knees, hands behind his back.

He snarled at them and tried to move but it was futile – she had him tightly pinned to the ground.

Thor crouched down in front of the N'itouri. "You were watching us."

The N'itouri bared its teeth and said nothing.

"Why?"

When the N'itouri was again unresponsive, Thor said, "Sigyn," and she swallowed briefly before entering its mind, feeling it reeling, coiling, undulating and dark.

She pulled away and said, "He hasn't contacted anyone yet – he was looting the houses and got left behind when the other N'itouri invaded the palace."

Thor smiled tightly. "So no one would know if he was dead."

The N'itouri sneered at them. _"You think killing me would accomplish anything? Think again, _varshirkt. _There are thousands of us and you cannot defeat your enemies when you think them to be your friends."_ And with that his plating began to ripple and shift – she kept a tight hold on him – and he melted into the form of a woman, her hair long and golden, her face kind but scared, clothed in blue. "Thor?" she asked with fear in her voice.

Thor faltered for a second, surprise and anguish on his face, but then he collected himself and growled, full of rage, and hefted Mjolnir in his hand, ready to strike – but she touched his arm. "Thor," she said. "I can still find out more."

The N'itouri shifted again and her stomach dropped, because now it was Loki, face gritted in pain, eyes reaching towards Thor. "Help me," he said, "please, help me."

She clenched her teeth, shook off the sight of his eyes reaching desperately out to hers and stretched out her hand towards Loki's – _not Loki's_ – forehead, curled her fingers and _pulled._

He screamed in pain but could not move – she began to sift towards the memories flooding towards her, the tendrils limp and weak – and his skin was cracking, peeling away – but it still had Loki's face and so she pulled harder, fingers tightening and the alien released the disguise, its high pitched scream continuing, ringing through the air – damn, it would give them away – and so she silenced him, preventing him from making a sound, still filtering the thoughts, the memories.

And then it was done and she released it, and the N'itouri fell panting to the ground, curling up into a ball, shaking.

She turned to Thor, her eyes meeting his (more afraid than he would care to admit), and said, "I know why they're here."

* * *

Loki watched the sun rise from his balcony, hoping that every second would be the second that they would return, that a point of rainbow light would flash out from the skies – but to no avail.

He pushed his hair back and waited, eyes hungry for a change in the horizon.

* * *

They crept towards the palace – Thor, her, and the rest of the Einherjar.

Her heart was hammering in her chest as they walked silently through the city streets – empty and dark. Thor had said that there would be N'itouri patrolling the streets… but so far she had detected nothing.

But then – there! A single dark mind was walking the streets as silently as they were. It was far enough away, for now… She touched Thor's arm and signaled silently to him where it was – he nodded and steered them away – five Einherjar peeled away from the group and crept in the direction she had pointed.

She tracked them as they stalked the N'itouri – who barely registered their presence before the light of its mind was extinguished.

She could see the palace, still flickering with lights – not so grand, nor so gold as Asgard's, but softer, rounder, more peaceful.

Of course, that was because all the inhabitants were dead…

Thor tapped her on the arm and touched his finger to his forehead. She nodded and her eyes flicked to blue, and he said, _We need to determine exactly how many are in the palace, and if there are any elves still harbored inside._

She nodded and pulled away from him, closing her eyes, focusing hard on that pale building up ahead.

Around her there was Thor, bright and warm, and the three Einherjar, taking up positions around her, just in case – she concentrated and the city flew beneath her in her mind, the palace walls disappearing as she searched – _three there, four there, ten there, two there_ \- identifying the spots of boiling darkness.

She opened her eyes and touched Thor's brow.

_There are forty-eight N'itouri inside the palace, and no other living beings. They must have killed all of the elves._

Thor nodded grimly and hefted Mjolnir, and the group began to advance towards the palace again.

The magnificent doors were hanging off their hinges when they reached the palace – it was easy to slip through them and into what was left of the large entry-hall.

Enough of the white pillars were there to still support the roof, but blood stained the marble, and rubble filled the hall, though torches still burned in their posts.

She grasped a dagger more firmly in her hand.

It was so quiet it was like a tomb…

Torches suddenly flared in a dark hallway leading off of the entry-hall – they all froze as the torches approached them, talons clicking on the marble…

A group of two N'itouri walked into the middle of sixty Einherjar and realized that they were trapped – guttural screams burst from their throats before they died, the noise echoing in the high-ceilinged room – and she could hear answering screams coming from hallways surrounding them, and the pounding of feet swiftly approaching.

Thor hefted Mjolnir and shouted, "To arms, Einherjar!" and they roared their battle cry as N'itouri flooded the room.

The clash of blade on blade and blade on armor and weapons firing filled the air with their clamor – and she began to throw her daggers, curving them through the air to take down one N'itouri after the other.

One charged her and she ducked – its swipe passed over her head, and she reached out and grabbed the creature, throwing it into the air and pinning it to the ceiling, then letting it drop hard and fast. It made a sickening crunch as it hit the ground and she swung around and immediately ducked – a blade flew over her head, so close she could feel it ruffle her hair – she turned the blade's flight and shot it and her daggers through the air – they weaved and spun through the N'itouri's chests, and they fell, one after the other – a scream from behind her and she turned and ran to the side of an Einherjar who had a gaping wound in his abdomen – she twitched her fingers and the N'itouri next to him flew into a pillar and fell to the floor.

She knelt beside him, her hand pressed to the wound in his side – he grabbed her wrist with wide eyes, breathing heavily.

"It's okay," she said, "you're going to be okay, all right?"

The blood was still running through her fingers – she adjusted her hands to cover more of the flow.

An N'itouri came raging up behind her – an abandoned dagger on the floor flew up and buried itself in its chest – the Einherjar's eyes were still wide with terror.

"Look at me," she said, softly. "It's okay. You're safe now."

And she closed her eyes and reached deep into his mind, into his body, soothing him, comforting him, knitting his muscles and nerves and veins back together – another N'itouri tried to surprise her but he was dead before he hit the floor – the Einherjar's eyes rolled back into his head as she touched his mind and told him to sleep.

She gently laid him down on the ground and lifted him across the palace floor, to an alcove where he could rest undisturbed.

The bleeding had stopped, but her hands were coated in red.

She was so tired, all of a sudden…

She felt a clamor taking place two hallways down – Thor was outnumbered and outmatched, fighting off ten or fifteen N'itouri.

She wanted this to be over, she was so weary, and Asgard felt so far away…

She hastened to help Thor – but a hand caught her boot, and she looked down.

"Sigyn," the Einherjar whispered and she knelt beside him. His eyes had opened now, and he was staring at her in wonder. "You have given me back my life."

She smiled faintly. "Rest," she said. "You have done more than enough."

He could only watch as she moved away from him, daggers spinning from the floor, through the air, into her hands.

* * *

It was midafternoon on Asgard and Loki had a pounding headache from pacing and worrying.

He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand, trying to work out the creases there, to relax his muscles.

He couldn't stand being in this room for any longer –

He twisted his fingers impatiently and a clone appeared, curled up in the bed.

He crossed to the far wall and touched it three times – the stone slid aside – he entered.

The passage, which he had discovered when he was young, led to several different places in the castle. He doubted that Odin knew about it – otherwise he would never have been allowed to stay in his chambers.

One of the hallways that the passage opened up on was close to Alana's room.

He didn't care if he was seen – he walked out without a second glance and into her bedroom.

It was empty, of course, (_of course)_ – the covers of the bed still mussed and tangled, but only on one side – his heart ached at the sight, because his bed was a mirror image of hers – he could imagine them both, alone in the night, pretending the other lay beside them –

There was nothing personal in her room, just a vase of flowers on a small table and of course, the closet filled with gowns that she might never wear –

He sat down on his side of the bed, stretching out a hand to touch the tangled sheets – they were cold.

He was so tired…

He lay down, staring at the emptiness where she should have been.

* * *

Thor swung and took out two N'itouri (and another on the backswing) but he was getting overwhelmed, there was no doubt about that.

Three N'itouri suddenly fell, daggers buried in the back of their heads, and he let out a disgruntled huff.

"Took you long enough to get here," he said to Alana, who had joined him, her hands covered in blood.

She shrugged. "I overestimated your mightiness."

He chuckled in spite of himself and together they began to turn the tide, the grey-skinned creatures falling around them, one after another.

* * *

It was finally quiet in the room, but for the moans of injured Einherjar.

She moved from them, one to the next, kneeling beside them to try and heal them, and

hands began to reach for her, from the ground – Einherjar wounded and bleeding called out her name – she comforted them as best she could, reached down deep into their minds and sang them to sleep with the songs of their childhood, reached down deep into their bodies to try and knit them back together, over and over and over and over – most of the time it worked, but there were some – there were some –

She inhaled deeply and touched an Einherjar's neck – so much pain, wracking his mind – she knew that these injuries could not be healed, not even by someone more skilled than herself - with one hand on his neck and one on his forehead, she soothed his mind as she reached into his veins and stopped the blood, stopped the heart – his eyes grew blank and peaceful.

She lowered him down to the floor and closed his eyes with a touch.

Another one next to him, and another… she was so tired but if she did not do this they would die…

A hand tugged weakly at her boot – a young Einherjar with dark hair lay there, bleeding from a deep gash across his chest.

She knelt down beside him and tried to smile.

"It's okay," she said softly, pushing his hair back from his forehead. "You're going to be okay."

He smiled faintly at her – and then his eyes flicked to yellow and he lunged.

* * *

A hand touched his shoulder, and he opened his eyes and stood.

Thor was standing before him, hands wet with blood up to his elbows, and Loki's heart dropped out of his stomach, down to the depths – _please let her be standing just behind him_ – a small choked noise emerged from his throat – Thor handed him a dagger with blood-slicked hands and knelt before him, throat bared.

"Do it," Thor said, voice wracked with pain. "I broke my word."

He let out a scream of anguish and pain and rage, and swung the dagger blindly – he felt it contact with metal and leather and then flesh and blood – and Thor did not make a sound, merely closed his eyes and fell softly to the ground.

He brought his bloodstained hands up to his face, his chest heaving – the dagger fell from his fingers to land on the floor – he looked down and Alana was lying sprawled before him, blood pooling on the ground, her eyes sightless – he screamed again and sank to his knees, pressing his hands to her chest, blood pulsing through his fingers –

He gasped for breath and heaved himself out of the bed, shaking and sweating.

He stared down at his hands, pale as always – her blood vanished – he buried his face in his hands, trying to control his gasps of panic and fear.

He wove the magic furiously, molding it together, shaping it tight – trying to find the charm on her necklace – trying to find her.

He wasn't sure if it would work – Alfheim was far away – but the magic complied to his demands, and a small dot appeared on the map.

He moved the map closer and closer and closer to the planet, zooming silently through empty streets made of light –

And she was there, a small figure of light, moving and fighting enemies he could not see – he exhaled slowly, his heart still beating fast.

He touched the tips of his fingers to her flickering shape, but there was nothing there but air and light.

He rested his chin in his hands and watched her move through the air.

* * *

The N'itouri went for her throat, and her senses kicked into overdrive, and time seemed to slow down.

She could smell the rancidness of its breath, feel the heat emanating from its body – gleaming ragged teeth lunging towards her – she tried to push him away with her telekinesis but she felt so weary, her reflexes so slow – and as the creature drew closer and closer, she thought, _This is where I will die._

She felt a pang of regret – Loki had been so afraid, she had promised to come back, she had _promised_ – but she could not grasp at the N'itouri's mind, nor its body, her powers sluggish and slow – _I promised him I'd come back, I promised, promised, promised…_

She closed her eyes as the maw of the beast drew nearer, one hand closing around the charm on her necklace, hot as a flame.

_I'm so, so sorry, Loki…._

She could feel steel-tipped talons grasping her upper arms – feel the force of its body pushing her back – registered the pain and shock and impact of flying through the air to crash onto hard marble – she felt the weight of its body, crushing her - she felt teeth graze her throat –

A blur of red and the N'itouri's weight abruptly vanished – she curled into a ball, hand still clenching her necklace tightly, tears streaming down her face.

A snarl and a roar and a crunching and everything was quiet once more.

Footsteps approached her, and Thor knelt beside her, enfolding her in his arms.

He murmured calming words as she cried into his chest, his huge hands gentle as they comforted her.

"You're safe," he said softly. "You're safe."

* * *

Loki was in a blind panic.

He had seen her thrown across the palace and land limp like a rag doll, had seen her curl into a ball, had seen her gathered up into someone's embrace, unmoving – and now she was floating through the air – being carried by someone from the palace.

She couldn't be dead, she _couldn't_ be…

He felt as if he were suffocating as he paced the balcony over and over and over and over again – waiting and waiting and _waiting_ for the Bifrost to awaken, for her to touch his mind –

He should have been there, he should have been there, he should have been there…

* * *

The first Einherjar that she had healed carried her, now, as healthy as ever – his name was Dagr, he had said, and that he owed her an unpayable debt – he kept expressing his gratitude.

She smiled faintly and told him to think nothing of it each time he brought it up – now she was half asleep in his arms, the gentle rocking motion soothing her to sleep – the weariness of the fight and of healing thirty Einherjar and of the last N'itouri had worn her down at last.

* * *

Thor walked next to Dagr and Alana, keeping an eye on her as the Einherjar moved through the streets of the city once again, those that were able carrying the bodies of their comrades in arms.

He had heard the thud of flesh on marble and had spun to see a N'itouri crouched over her still body and had charged without a second thought – once it was dead, she had wept in his arms – he had been so relieved to find her alive.

Thank the Norns that she was not injured too badly – a few broken ribs, perhaps, and a gash on her neck that he had quickly bandaged – but she was so exhausted from healing the Einherjar that she could not have saved herself if she tried.

A surprising amount of the Einherjar had been willing to carry her – the amazement and wonder on their faces once they found themselves fully healed had transformed into deep admiration and awe for her – _Sigyn sal-frelsa_ he heard them whispering about her – the soul saver – and he knew that their trust in her was cemented.

Dagr had been the first that she had healed – he was flushed with the honor of bearing her back to Asgard.

They had reached the point from which they were to depart Alfheim. He called to Heimdall, and the skies rushed down on them, whirling them through the stars, back to Asgard once again.

* * *

Loki shot up as he saw a beam of light emerge from Heimdall's post, fingers clutching the railing of her balcony so hard his knuckles turned white.

A slow procession began to trickle out over the Bifrost, the light flickering underneath the dark shapes, some bearing the bodies of their comrades.

And then – and then –

Two small shapes emerged at the end of the procession – two men, one accompanying the other, who carried a smaller shape cradled in his arms –

He sank to his knees, fingers still clutching the posts, hope trickling away from him…

* * *

Thor shouldered his way into Alana's chambers, holding the door for Dagr, who inclined his head in thanks as he carried Alana into the room.

Thor directed him where to place her and thanked him – Dagr bowed and left with one last look back at her – Thor collapsed heavily into a chair.

After a few seconds of stillness, he felt that something was wrong, but he couldn't pin it down. He could have sworn that the other side of the bed had been untouched and unmussed when they had left…

It dawned on him; he sighed heavily and called out, saying, "Brother, show yourself."

Loki appeared out of the shadows, his eyes fixed on Alana. "What happened?" he asked, his voice rough.

He sighed. "She is fine – a few broken ribs, perhaps, but she is mostly exhausted."

Loki knelt beside her and took her hand.

Thor continued, "It's because of her that we survived – I underestimated the N'itouri's strength and tactics. And she healed thirty Einherjar before she was attacked again – her strength was depleted after that, but you should have seen the way the Einherjar look at her now – they are calling her _sal-frelsa_ and saying that she will come to you in your final moments and quiet your soul and sing it to Valhalla or that she will make it as though you were never injured at all."

Loki remained quiet, the dark circles under his eyes speaking of his restless night, his thumb rubbing small circles on her hand.

"Stay with her," Thor said softly; Loki looked up in astonishment. "She deserves it. I can guarantee no one will disturb her until morning, but that is all, I fear."

He pushed himself up from his chair – he could not deny that a soft bed sounded better than Valhalla at the moment – but there was still Odin to brief and the Council to update, and Eir to inform about the injuries…

"You kept your word, brother," Loki said quietly. His eyes flicked to Thor's and he could see the raw emotion barricaded there. "Thank you."

Thor nodded wearily and left her chambers.

* * *

In her dreams, Loki lay beside her, their hands entwined– she asked him sleepily if she had died and was in heaven and he had kissed her brow and told her that she was alive, and that she had been so brave, and told her to sleep deeply; he was there, he whispered, and she was safe.

The sun shone warm and golden across her bed – she ached all over and didn't want to open her eyes.

A knock at the door and the sound of it opening: with an immense effort, she pried her eyelids open and tried to sit up – but a burst of pain shot through her chest and she grimaced.

"Lady Sigyn?" a woman's voice said. "How are you feeling?"

She turned her head – _that_ she could do without pain – and registered a tall, dark-haired woman – Eir, the chief healer.

"Less weary," she said with a faint smile. "I think I may have broken a rib, though."

"Mmm." Eir approached her and began to push slightly at her ribcage – she gasped in pain several times. "Yes, definitely a few broken ribs. But I doubt you need me to fix them, after all." Her smile was knowing – she blushed a little and said, "I can't – I don't think I can heal myself."

Eir smiled again. "Well, perhaps you just need more practice."

She smiled back. "Thank you, Lady Eir, but I am sure that you can treat me better than I could ever treat myself – or others, for that matter."

Eir shook her head. "Asgard owes you a debt, Lady Sigyn – without your skills Asgard would be short thirty members of the vanguard. I have observed the Einherjar that you healed last night – they show no signs of injury, yet they described to me in vivid detail what had happened to them, and I say – they would be dead if not for you."

She felt a surge of emotion inside of her, moisture springing to her eyes, which Eir tactfully ignored. "Now, I will prepare a potion for your ribs. Stay in bed, do you understand?"

When she nodded, Eir smiled and swept out of the room.

She sank back into the pillows, and looked to her left – Loki was not lying next to her. It had only been a dream, then… though she had hoped differently.

She closed her eyes, wishing to sink into another dream just like it.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, the smexy times are coming. I hear ya. Stay tuned.**


	51. Explosion (In Your Soul)

**A/N: Woohoo! Another chapter today, for your reading pleasure! And this is the one where everything starts happening at once... Only a few more chapters (maybe one!) until Part Two of Book Two is done, and then onto Book Three!**

**If you liked the chapter, please leave a review (if you remember by the time you finish reading - it's a long chapter again.)**

**Hugs!**

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN**

* * *

_A kiss from your lips_

_On a night like this, _

_Like an explosion, in my soul_

_S__weet love words_

_Something good to be heard_

_Like an explosion, can't control_

_\- "Explosion (In Your Soul)", The Soul Survivors_

* * *

He had lain beside her the entire night, watching her sleep.

Her hands had been coated in the dried blood of the Einherjar – he had washed them gently, so as not to wake her, but she was so exhausted she slept on…

Once, she had awoken slightly, and gazed at him, eyes half-open, a small smile on her face, and she had asked him softly, "Am I dead? Is this heaven?"

He had tried to conceal the tears that sprang to eyes after that – had kissed her forehead and stroked her hair and whispered to her that she was safe, that he was there with her – he told her how brave she had been, and told her to sleep.

He held her hand as she slept beside him, eyes never leaving her face.

Now, he was back in his room, exhausted – the panic of the day before had left him drained and wan – but still he could not sleep.

* * *

She sat up slowly, wincing slightly – Eir's potion had done its work, though it had taken several days - Eir had reassured her that her ribs were no longer broken, but there was still a faint ache in her chest that she could not shake.

She rubbed her ribs absentmindedly as she stood up.

She made her way towards the closet – Thor had visited her a few hours ago, and told her that today was the day Odin wished to see her.

The door creaked open, slowly – she spun around, heart pounding fast – _ow_ – and saw her startled maidservant standing there.

"My lady, is everything all right?" she asked, eyes wide.

Alana's shoulders lost their tension; she sighed. "Yes, I'm sorry – you startled me, a bit."

Her servant nodded like that was to be expected, she then told Alana to sit down as she picked out a dress, and began gushing about the Einherjar that had been standing vigil for her.

"You should have seen them, Lady Sigyn, all plated and armored, standing guard outside your doorway in shifts – and they were practically dragged away by the next group, none of them wished to leave your side – I rather think that they would have watched over your bedside if Thor hadn't rebuked them – isn't it lovely, the way he looks after you? Everyone thinks that the both of you must accompany the other to the Sumarsmal feast – I know you haven't been to one before, my lady, how dreadful! They are so grand…"

She prattled on and on and Alana suddenly felt very tired.

The maid began to tie the laces up on the back of her dress; she looked down to find herself in a gown that seemed to be spun from pure gold.

She stared at herself in the mirror; she barely recognized herself. Staring back at her was someone powerful, someone regal and dignified in a way she knew she could never be – she swallowed and looked away.

The maid placed her circlet on her head, and handed her the gauntlets.

She swallowed again, twisted the dial, and watched them flow up to gold bands encircling her arms.

There was a knock on the door; the maid went to answer it, and Thor entered.

He bowed slightly. "Lady Sigyn."

She inclined her head and stood up – _ow_ – he offered her his arm, and escorted her out.

* * *

Odin sat rigidly on the throne, Einherjar flanking the walls around him.

He could no longer deny that the Midgardian was a capable soldier – Thor's report last night had more than proved that – and the number of Einherjar that she had healed was immense.

Though it pained him to admit it, Loki's toy was proving useful to the realm as the _armustar_, and – well. He could not disagree that if she had not been present during the battle that things would have gone much the worst.

But she was still fragile, as this fight had proven – her stamina was not enough to fight _and_ heal – and he was loath to stop her doing either.

He knew what he had to do, but it soured in his mouth all the same – such a thing had only been done twice in Asgard's history, with imperfect consequences – but her advantages were too much to deny.

The door opened, and she entered, Thor a few steps behind her, and he did not miss the quieting of the crowd or Einherjar straightening as she entered.

She knelt before him. "Your Majesty," she said.

"You have done the realms a great service."

She looked down. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

"You have saved thirty lives, which cannot be overlooked."

The Einherjar stood straighter, some more somber than others.

"Therefore, the Council has decided to grant you a great honor."

She looked up at him, puzzled.

"At the feast of Sumarsmal, you will be presented with one of the Golden Apples of Idunn."

There were soft murmurings of approval from among the Einherjar at this.

Odin continued, "The Golden Apples are given to warriors who have distinguished themselves above their line of service to the realm."

She bowed her head, still confused – Thor's worry was burning bright behind her – he didn't want Odin to say anything else.

"Thank you, Allfather, for this honor," she said, her voice clear. "I am humbled that you think me deserving of it."

"Rise," Odin said, and she did so; he stood as well.

Applause began to ring from the people surrounding her, she turned towards them; they were clapping for _her_ and she swallowed, her throat feeling thick with emotion.

* * *

Thor escorted her back to her room, afterwards – she was exhausted and that ache on her ribs was only worsening.

Once they were to her room, he shut the door and locked it.

"The Golden Apples are not merely a military honor," he said, softly. "Father wants you to become an Aesir, and the Apples will facilitate that."

Her jaw dropped. "What?"

Thor nodded, his eyes serious. "It has only been done twice in the history of all Asgard – and the results were – less than perfect, but he thinks you too valuable to lose in eighty years."

She held up her hands, her heart still pounding. "Wait, wait – me? An Aesir? How would that work, what would – "

Thor shook his head. "I do not know. I have never seen it happen before. But, it would extend your lifespan – you would live as long as Loki or I – as well as increase your physical prowess and stamina."

She sat down, dazed. "This is a lot to take in," she managed.

Thor smiled faintly. "I can imagine. Do you want me to leave, or…"

She nodded slightly, and said "Thank you."

He inclined his head and left.

Her head was spinning, what did this mean? Was it finally, _finally_ possible that she could live with Loki for thousands of years, to grow old with him?

But Thor's words came back to her – _the results were less than perfect_ – and she swallowed slightly.

She had to take that chance. She had to.

* * *

The morning of Sumarsmal dawned bright and warm and clear, and more than anything, she wanted the wind in her hair and the sun on her face.

She dressed in breeches and a dark shirt, pulled on her boots, strapped on her gauntlets, and headed for the stables.

She ran into Thor on the way there. "Out for a ride?" he asked, his eyes twinkling in an odd way. She nodded and they parted, and she made her way down to the stables, where the perpetually nervous stable hand followed her as she made her way down the aisles, looking at the horses.

She patted the muzzle of a dark horse, who pushed his nose closer to her and whickered softly. She smiled in spite of herself. "Can I ride this one?" she asked, turning to the stable hand. "What's his name?"

The stable hand looked slightly uncomfortable. "That… is Svadilfari, my lady, but he… well. He was once Loki's horse."

She bit back her smile. "Does that hinder my riding him?"

The stable hand looked embarrassed. "Of course not, my lady. Especially… well, under the circumstances. I'll prepare him at once."

Less than ten minutes later she was flying down the green hills beside the cliff that led to the sea. Svadilfari was a pleasure to ride, responsive and eager, and the wind in her hair and the smell of the sea made the hole in her heart close a little more.

* * *

Loki awakened to the sun streaming through the balcony and swung his legs off the side of the bed.

He would not deny that he had been waiting for this morning for days and days… but he was hesitant, all the same, as he opened the door slightly.

A satisfied expression crept across his face as he saw the corridor empty and bare of the guards.

Thor visited him as he was pulling on his boots. He scratched his neck and said, "You might find it a good day for a ride."

He smiled. "Thank you, brother."

Less than ten minutes later he was at the stables, Bragi's eyes widening at the sight of him.

He raised his hands slightly – he could see a touch of fear in Bragi's eyes. "Is Svadilfari here?" he asked, politely.

The stable hand looked frightened. "I thought…" he began, then visibly closed his mouth.

Loki walked past him, hands behind his back. Bragi had been raised by Odin's master of horses and had subsequently spent much time with both him and Thor in their childhoods. "Nothing is wrong. The Allfather, in his… generosity…" (He was unable to keep a slight note of sarcasm out of his voice, hard as he tried) "has released me for the day of the festival."

Bragi swallowed. "Of course… my lord."

"Will you not prepare my horse, then?"

He swallowed again. "My lord, Svadilfari has been taken out by someone else."

Loki turned to him, brow furrowed. "Who?"

* * *

Sif and Volstagg arrived at the stables to find a more-than-usually-worried Bragi. Twisting his hands, he explained to them what had happened.

"You see, the lady Sigyn arrived and took a liking to Svadilfari, and of course since Loki was imprisoned I thought it fine to let her take him, but then Loki himself arrived and… well, I couldn't read his face at all after I told him that someone else had taken Svadilfari, he demanded to know where she had gone – I told him, but I think that he may be quite upset, and I fear for the lady Sigyn if he should catch up to her."

Sif's face was as dark as thunder. "Come, Volstagg, jousting must wait. Bragi, prepare our horses."

* * *

He laughed with delight as he pounded through the hills, following her trail.

The scent of the grass and the sea and the feeling of freedom overwhelmed him, the speed of his mount carrying him along towards her, the utter joy that he had not felt for so long penetrated his soul, and for the first time in weeks, he felt at peace.

The hills tapered off into a white beach – and up ahead he could spy a dark horse and rider, rounding the cliff, becoming unseen.

He urged his horse faster, her hooves pounding against the ground.

_Alana._

* * *

She rounded the base of the bluff, slowing Svadilfari to a walk, absently rubbing his neck.

The waves were so beautiful here – it reminded her of the beach that she had taken Loki to years and years ago.

She stiffened as the pounding of hoofbeats came from behind her – she turned to see who it was, instinctively reaching out with her mind, but before she could barely touch his thoughts he had reined in his horse beside her, and his eyes sparkled with delight as her mouth opened in shock.

She reached out to touch his face. "Loki?" she whispered softly.

He kissed her palm and smiled. "Gods, I missed you," he said, voice quiet and low.

"I'm definitely hallucinating."

And suddenly his lips were on hers, warm and fierce, and her hands tangled into his hair and she felt tears spill out of her closed eyes – _Loki, Loki, Loki_ – and the hole inside her had been filled to bursting all of a sudden.

He rested his forehead against hers. "Alana," he whispered, and she closed her eyes again, savoring the sound of her name on his tongue – _her_ name.

He kissed away her tears, his hand cradling her chin, and then she kissed him hard, not wanting the moment to ever end.

But then she felt a light – no, two – coming in fast from the beach, almost to the bluff around which they were concealed.

She broke the kiss and said, "Loki, someone's coming."

He frowned slightly. "How long?"

She closed her eyes for a second, then answered, "Ten seconds, I think."

"Perfect," he said and kissed her again, even more fervently than before, tugging a gasp from her.

Two seconds to go and she could not bring herself to pull away, even though she could now identify the minds – Sif and Volstagg.

And then the pounding hoofbeats behind them and Loki's hand slipped out of her hair and his lips departed from hers and they were riding their horses at a leisurely pace side by side as Sif and Volstagg halted their horses in front of them.

"Good morning!" she said to them. "It was nice of you to come and join me. The group keeps increasing, it seems," she laughed lightly, gesturing to Loki.

Volstagg frowned. "I see you two have met, then."

She nodded, the smile still on her face, though it was beginning to feel a bit forced.

Sif said, "We should probably head back to the palace. There is much preparation to do before the feast."

Loki laughed. "Sif, the feast is not until sundown."

Sif glared at him. "Why the Allfather has agreed to release you for the feast I cannot fathom. It would be better for all if you returned to your cell."

"But I have just made a new acquaintance," Loki said lightly. "Surely you would not begrudge me the opportunity to know the newest member of your little troop?"

Sif growled and Volstagg frowned. "I cannot control either him, or you," she said, turning to Alana, "but Sigyn, I strongly suggest that you take your leave of this criminal."

She smiled politely. "I have not finished my ride, Sif. Thank you for coming to check on me, though – I do appreciate it. I don't want to hinder either of you any further – you can return to the palace if you need to. I'm sure I'll be quite fine."

Sif frowned but wheeled her horse around and took her leave of them. Volstagg rode past Loki, halting only to mutter something to him that hardened Loki's face, then leaving as well, nodding to her as he did so.

She let out a sigh of relief once they had ridden far enough away that the sound of the ocean would hinder their hearing. "That was close," she said, but Loki stayed silent.

"What did he say to you?" she asked quietly. "Loki?"

But his face was still hard and distant – she was tempted to reach into his mind but refrained.

"Loki?" she asked again, softly.

He looked down and away from her. "It's fine, love. It's nothing."

She took his hand; he squeezed it once.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm afraid it'll always be like this." He gestured vaguely in the direction in which Sif and Volstagg had left.

"Not always," she whispered, touching his cheek.

He sighed deeply, and when he looked back up at her his eyes were clear.

* * *

They sat on a cliff overlooking the sea, the horses grazing peacefully behind them.

Alana's head rested on his shoulder, her fingers wrapped in his.

He kissed her forehead, and she sighed contentedly.

They sat there in silence for a while, then she said, "Odin's going to give me a Golden Apple."

He stiffened and turned in surprise. "What?"

She nodded. "Thor said it's because he wants me to be able to fight for longer."

Loki shook his head, smiling slightly. "Of course he does."

It was as though a heavy weight had been lifted off his heart, and he pulled her close again, reveling in her touch – now his for as long as he would live. He would see her grow old – perhaps they would have children, someday –

She shifted and said, "But he also said that it had only been done twice, a long time ago, and that something happened to them – something bad."

The happiness evaporated – he remembered the smallest section of a book of Asgard's history, detailing the pain and the suffering that followed when a Midgardian ate of Idunn's golden apples.

She sighed. "I'll probably take it, all the same."

"Alana, it's dangerous. You could – " and he broke off, turning his head away.

She touched his cheek. "It's worth the risk. Besides, the people who took it before weren't like me – they didn't have powers. Maybe it'll be okay."

He sighed. "Regardless, it'll be painful."

She looked away. "I know. But I can take it."

He could not help but stare at her, feeling that his love for her must be pouring from his veins, from his eyes – how far, she would go, to stay with him, how much she would endure if it meant she had a chance.

She glanced at him and smiled, and pulled him in for a kiss.

* * *

She had kissed him in the hills one last time, and then their masks had slipped back on as they entered the stables to find Bragi having a sigh of relief to see her safe and unharmed.

She inclined her head politely to Loki as she left the stable, but brushed his mind as she walked away from him – _I love you_ – and she could feel the light emanating from him as she departed, saying, _I'll see you soon, love._

Back at the palace, her maids were frantic with excitement, showing her a multitude of new gowns that had been made for the occasion, in every shade of the rainbow and then some, fabrics as soft and light as silk and plush as velvet.

They had her try on all of them, but the one that caught her eye was one of deep purple, with streaks of gold shimmering through like stars, with a golden belt slung low on her hips.

"This one," she said, and the maids agreed.

They arranged her hair simply but elegantly – by now, her maids had some sense of her taste – and she twisted her gauntlets into golden bands around her arms.

A maid placed her circlet on her head and another placed her slippers on her feet, and she stared at herself in the looking glass, still unsure who was staring back – was it Sigyn, or Alana? Was it a warrior, a healer, the _armustar_, or just a mortal, the imposter at the feast?

She dismissed the maids, and studied the charm of her necklace bearing his fingerprint.

She sighed and dropped the charms down the front of her dress.

Time for the feast.

* * *

There was a long line of lords and ladies waiting to enter the ballroom, to greet Odin and Thor – she patiently took her place behind them, and waited.

She could hear the music playing, and the chatter of hundreds of voices, and see the flickering lights within the ballroom.

She greeted several Einherjar and their escorts with a smile, but she could not help scanning the crowd for a particular dark head and a back draped in green.

Finally she was close to the front of the line – she looked at Odin and Thor for the first time that night and had to bite back a gasp – for standing next to them was Loki.

And then it was her turn and she took a deep breath and walked towards them. When she reached them, she curtseyed deeply to Odin. "Your Majesty," she said.

"Rise, Lady Sigyn," he said. His pale eye met hers. "Enjoy yourself. We shall present your award on the twelfth hour."

She inclined her head. "Thank you, Your Majesty." She curtseyed slightly and moved to the right, to Thor, as another Aesir took her place greeting Odin.

Thor bowed slightly. "My lady. How have you been?"

She smiled a bit. "Well, thank you."

He kissed her hand. "I look forward to conversing with you later on."

She bowed her head and curtseyed again and moved to the right, to Loki.

"Lady Sigyn," he said, and bent over her hand, his eyes fixed intently on hers, his lips barely grazing her skin, and a shiver went up her back. "How lovely to make your acquaintance again."

She curtseyed to him as his fingers slipped away from hers. "Your Highness."

"I should be honored to dance with you later this evening, my lady," he said, his eyes mischievous

"The honor would be mine, Your Highness."

His lips touched her hand once more and he released her.

She moved away from him, looking back once, his eyes meeting hers. He smiled slightly, then turned back towards the next lady, an elderly woman accompanied by an even older man, who looked more than a little worried.

But as she watched, the nameless Aesir slowly smiled at him, and the nameless lord seemed to soften, and they left Loki talking quietly to each other, with pleased smiles on their faces.

She shook her head slightly, a fond smile on her face, and she dared to hope that perhaps Odin would release him after the feast.

An hour or so later, and the guests had all arrived, and were mingling together in a sea of silks and robes and armor, dining on light refreshments as the orchestra played a melody.

As the song ended, a wave of applause rose up around her.

Odin stood in front of the crowd. "This is a time for merriment and dancing, feasting and celebration," he said. "Let the feast of Sumarsmal begin!" A roar of approval came from the crowd around her, and the orchestra began to play a merry tune. Couples partnered and began to dance, and tables piled high with fruits and meats and delicacies were brought out.

A hand tapped her on the shoulder and she turned to see Thor there. "Would you care to dance?" he asked politely.

"Thank you, Your Highness, but I think you should ask Lady Sif," she replied, formally. "There are far too many rumors circulating about the two of us already."

He winked at her and leaned closer. "True, but I will enjoy seeing the look on Loki's face."

"Thor," she scolded, but smiled in spite of herself. "Very well."

She took his arm and he led her out to the dance floor.

* * *

Whirls of color, of silk and satin and lace, surrounded her and made her feel as if she were floating on a cloud.

Her head was subtly aching, though; the gods' thoughts were not quiet, especially under the influence of alcohol and merrymaking, and she was struggling to keep her mind her own, to not get overwhelmed by the vivid, swirling lights surrounding her on all sides.

Thor bowed to her as the song ended and went to go speak to one of the Einherjar. Another man with long brown hair and a short beard asked for a dance, to which she consented, though not after surreptitiously glancing at where Loki was now leaning, up against the wall.

His eyes met hers, and she smiled at him for a moment before a new song began and she was whirled around the floor, away from where he stood.

"You are by far the most beautiful woman here, Lady Sigyn," her partner said. She gave him a polite smile and said, "You have me at a disadvantage, my lord. You know my name, but I am afraid I do not know yours."

Her partner introduced himself as Lord Meili, and then continued to make small talk with her, alternately complimenting her and insisting that he was the luckiest man in the room. She smiled slightly, wondering what he would think of her if he knew she was Midgardian.

His conversation soon grew tedious, however, and she began to long for the song to end so that she could escape him.

She tuned him out for a while, smiling and occasionally nodding, as she deemed necessary, catching Loki's eye over his shoulder and grimacing faintly.

His mouth curled up into a smile at that and he mouthed, _Need a hand?_

She shook her head; it had been drilled into her head that it was disrespectful to abandon your partner until the song was over, and she did not intend to begin the night by breaking the rules.

"… maybe at least a hundred," her partner went on. "I could have killed more, but, you understand, Jotunheim is quite chilly at that time of year, and I didn't have my cloak!" He laughed heartily, and then paused as he saw her face. "Are you all right, my lady?"

"Actually," she responded, her voice chilly, the thought of broken rules vanishing from her mind, intending to make her excuses and leave, when a voice behind her interrupted, "Excuse me."

Meili turned to look, bowing his head formally as he recognized Loki.

"Might I cut in?" His voice was like steel; he was clearly not going to take no for an answer.

Meili, looking a little put out, but clearly unwilling to upset the prince, grudgingly relinquished his grasp on her. Loki's hand sought hers, fingers entwining, palms fitting together perfectly, and he placed his other hand on her waist, fitting against the small of her back, clutching her to him tightly. A new song started, and they began to twirl around the floor. She let out a small sigh of relief.

"What did he do to you?" Loki asked, eyes dark and menacing.

She sighed again. "Nothing, Loki… He was just bragging about having murdered a hundred Jotunns."

He let out a small breath of relief. "Oh."

"Loki, you make it sound like that's a _good _thing."

"It's not," he told her. "I don't think that. But what _I _was thinking… well. That was worse."

She rolled her eyes. "You're a just a _little _bit too overprotective of me, Loki. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can, love. But seeing you dance with other men, smile at them as they compliment you… _that_ burns."

He whispered in her ear, "And seeing you with Thor?" The hand on her back pulled her closer to him. "That burned most of all."

She smiled sweetly up at him. "And _that's_ why he asked me to dance."

"Minx," he muttered. She smiled at him again.

"You were surprised to see me next to him," he said, changing the subject. She nodded as he twirled her through the crowd. "I couldn't believe it for a second," she confessed. "How did you convince Odin?"

He smiled ruefully. "It wasn't me at all, it was Thor. He told Father that it would be odd if he made no acknowledgement of me, and when that seemed to fail, he reminded him that Sumarsmal was a time of new beginnings…I do not know how it worked, only that it did."

"I'm glad," she said softly, fingers tightening in his for a moment.

* * *

Several hours later, Thor stood on the upper balcony, getting some fresh air, when he noticed Loki and Alana under the spreading canopies of the forest. They were dancing together, not like the swirling couples inside, but swaying gently to a tune that no one else could hear. Alana's head rested on Loki's chest, and his arms gently embraced her.

Thor let a small smile pass his lips. The tenderness in Loki's face was such as he had not seen for years and years, and Alana's expression of pure contentment filled him with peace. _One night_, he thought. _That is all I can give them… but gods, if I had the power, I would give them more._

His thoughts were interrupted as Odin walked up beside him.

"He is truly in love with her."

Thor did not answer, believing the sight before them to be proof enough.

"Perhaps I have been too… harsh with him."

Thor laughed slightly. "Father, have you been drinking?"

Odin waved a hand gruffly. "No matter."

Loki twirled Alana around – she laughed and spun back closer to him, and he enveloped her in his arms again.

Odin sighed. "I am old, Thor – I know the Norns are counting my days."

Thor turned to him, shocked. "But Father – the Odinsleep – "

Odin smiled faintly. "That only goes so far. And I am weary. The battles that approach must be commanded by someone young and strong and able to hold his mead." He chuckled. "I am none of those, anymore. And I must confess… I long to see your mother once again."

Thor looked down and away. "Father… we still need you. _I _need you. Asgard is in more danger than it has been in a thousand years – you cannot give up."

Odin said softly, "When you are as old as I am, you will understand. Too long have I lived, even for an Aesir – too much have I seen; war, and death, and pain, and suffering. Valhalla knows how many times Frigga saved me from the dark." He sighed heavily. "But now I do not even have her to temper me. Now Asgard needs a new king."

There was a pregnant pause, and then Thor spoke. "My answer is still the same, Father. I will fight for Asgard, give my life for it if need be. But I cannot, and will not, rule it."

Odin huffed. "This is my legacy, then – my realms on the brink of war, and I too old to fight, and one son refuses to rule, and the other one a criminal."

"Loki has changed, Father," Thor said softly. "He is different now – and he is wiser than I in ways of war."

"He fought for Thanos, Thor, for our enemy. How can he be trusted now?"

They watched Alana and Loki dance, and Thor said, "Because he has something to fight for, now, something that he will not give up. And if it means that she is safe… I do not doubt that he would do anything."

Odin sighed. "Even so, Thor, what of it? He is Laufey's son, he is a Jotunn. Such a thing has never occurred – our enemy's son, sitting on our throne?"

"He is more your son than Laufey's, Father. And… Father, was this not the purpose for which you took him in the first place? You wished to use him to barter peace, to broker a common ground. Give him the throne and he will bring the Jotunns back into the fold. We need all the warriors we can get, and… in my mind, the prejudices that Asgard has long harbored must be dissolved if we are to win this war."

Odin was silent for a long time. "And you refuse the throne," he said, finally.

Thor nodded. "Yes."

"Then what else can I do? You have tied my hands."

He sighed deeply. "I never thought to see the day I would be convinced to crown Laufey's son in place of my own…"

"You _are _crowning your son, Father," Thor said softly. "Truly."

They watched as Alana and Loki danced some more under the trees, Loki pulling her in for a tender kiss.

Odin cleared his throat. "Come, Thor. Let us leave them to their dance."

* * *

Loki danced with Alana in the shade of the trees, and all was well.

Her head rested gently on his chest, his arms embraced her tenderly, and they swayed together in the cool air.

"We have an audience," Alana whispered to him, glancing up at the balcony for a brief second.

He twirled her around, catching a glimpse of Odin and Thor watching them from the palace.

"Let them watch," he whispered back to her and pulled her in close, kissing her softly, finally his again, finally his, and her lips were sweet and she kissed him too.

When he broke the kiss, she smiled, resting her forehead against his.

"I never thought we would get a night like this," she said quietly. "Not together, here, alone."

He spun her around – she laughed, music to his ears, and his heart was pounding fast –

She nestled closer to him. "Alana…" he said, then swallowed, his mouth dry.

She murmured "Yes?" into his chest, the vibrations traveling through to his heart –

"Marry me."

There was a sharp intake of breath and she raised her face upwards. "What?" she breathed.

"I don't want to hide anymore," he said, words tumbling out in rapid succession, "I want you, forever, and I don't care who knows, I don't care about the consequences – all I want is to be by your side every day until I die – "

She kissed him fiercely, her chest heaving, her hands pressed to his cheeks, and he could feel tears streaming down her face; she kissed him desperately again and again as he pulled her closer and closer.

"Of course I'll marry you," she whispered, finally. "_Of course_, Loki."

He touched his fingers to her tears – she laughed and wiped them away, (his eyes were wet too) and pressed her forehead against his.

He reached into the pocket of his surcoat and pulled out a small ring, dainty and gold.

"I know on Midgard you give rings?" he said softly, and she swiped at her eyes again, shaking her head slightly and smiling.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, and her hand was shaking slightly as he placed it on her finger – slightly too big, but a whisper and a flash of green and that was easily remedied.

"It was my mother's," he said, and she flew into his arms again, her arms thrown around his neck. He picked her up and whirled her around and kissed her again, feeling the warmth of her, the weight of her, her, her, in his arms forever now, forever and ever and ever.

She laughed and buried her head into his shoulder; they stood like that, for a while, embracing.

Finally she pulled away and the smile on her face made him happier than he had ever been in his life.

"We should go in," she murmured, but her hands were still around his neck, and she showed no signs of moving them.

"Odin's presenting the apple to you at twelve?"

She nodded and he rested his forehead against hers.

He laughed slightly. "I don't know how I'll be able to pretend I barely know you in there."

She murmured agreement. "I'm too happy for that," she said softly.

She kissed him once more, and he relished the feel of her, the taste of her – if he lived a hundred thousand years he was sure that her kisses would thrill him the same as the first.

She pulled away, finally, and said, "I love you, Loki."

He smiled and said, "I love you too."

* * *

It was twelve and Odin stood in front of the crowd, and banged Gungnir once on the floor, causing instant silence.

"On this day, Sumarsmal," he began, "we celebrate the beginning of the summer, of the rebirth of the realms, of new beginnings, and of new life. It is fitting, therefore, that tonight we honor one of the newest members of our vanguard. And yet she managed, in one night, to save the lives of thirty of our Einherjar."

Silence still reigned in the room.

Odin continued, "This is a feat that should not be lightly regarded. This is a feat worthy of praise, of reward! And so it is that I present the Lady Sigyn with a Golden Apple of Idunn."

There was applause from all around her, faces turned towards her, as she mounted the platform and curtseyed to Odin, and then to the crowd.

Odin opened his hand to reveal an orb that appeared to be made of solid gold – she cupped her hands and he placed it in them.

She knew what she was supposed to do now, but she was tense in the anticipation of pain –

She raised the orb to her lips and bit into it. Although it looked hard, it yielded easily, like a real apple would.

She swallowed – no pain as of yet – and the crowd applauded for her – she curtseyed again – _was that a hint of pain in her stomach or just her imagination?_ – and she could sense Loki's worry still burning in the crowd, as her eyes reached for his…but there was something else there too, something just out of reach, something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

There was a heartbeat in which she understood something was terribly, terribly wrong –

And then the platform exploded.


End file.
